A New Hand for a New Century: An EightCard Deck
by Obi's Second Cousin
Summary: Sequel to Queen of Spades, second in trilogy. A hunter, a spy, a vampire, a thief, a scientist, a pirate, an immortal, and an alien must save the world from the Fantom and his allies, the alien Black Hawks. Mild TSMH and HJOC. Now Complete!
1. Faces of the League

ECD prologue

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, the Stargate, or the Goa'uld. I can happily lay claim to Special Agent Daria Noclaf, the Tau'ka… oh wait, this plot isn't really mine either. Darn. I'll just go back to the sandbox now.

Summary: Take one hunter, a secret agent, a renegade captain, a vampire, an invisible man, an immortal, and a doctor with split personalities. Add one alien spy. Sprinkle with some nifty special effects and a bored author. Stir to combine and serve as soon as it is typed. Sequel to "A New Hand For a New Century: Queen of Spades". Second in the New Hand Trilogy. I hope old fans won't be bored and new ones won't be confused. and I promise this will have more action than the prequel. (No Holmes though- but don't give up on the old boy yet.)

"The best way to get another chapter is to fill the authoress's inbox with reviews." – Me.

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_Some stories tell you the story. Some stories only tell you part of the story. Others…_

_Others tell you the story that is different from the one you know._

_This is one of those stories._

_This is one of those stories that no one hears._

_Until now._

_Now, the story continues…_

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Chapter One: The Faces of a League

_London, Albion Museum._

_Tottenham Road._

July 1899

"I don't much like theatrics," the older man growled, eyed M suspiciously. Special Agent Daria Noclaf looked the newcomer over carefully from her position in the unlit adjoining room. She mentally classified him as an old, grizzled warrior, veteran of too many battles. He was moderately tall, with a short gray beard and a taste in clothes that ran towards khaki and utilitarian.

The one who had brought Daria, Captain Nemo, the invisible thief Rodney Skinner, and this newcomer together stood. "After Africa's veldts, London's weather isn't helping your mood any, I see." The man, known to her only as 'M', began to move around the table that dominated the room, turning up the gaslights as he did.

"Identify yourself." the newcomer said gruffly.

"I'm known by many names, Mr. Quatermain. My underlings call me Sir," M said. "My superiors call me M."

"M?" Quatermain replied.

The cadaverous-looking man smiled mysteriously. "Just M." The lights came on fully, revealing the slim, light-haired man standing next to the long wooden table. The old library they were in was decorated with paintings of various groups of people, none of whom Daria recognized. M gestured Quatermain to one of the chairs and handed him a manila-colored file. He explained about the group he was forming, a league of people with remarkable skills and talents. A League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, as it was. Quatermain looked through the papers in his folder. The silently watching Daria knew that the folder mostly biographical information on a number of people. Most of the records had a photograph attached.

Quatermain, occupied as he was with his file, didn't see M's discreet gesture. That was the signal for Daria to follow Nemo into the main room. Skinner, of course, was nowhere to be seen. The old man only looked up when he heard the clink of Nemo's sword belt.

"Mr. Quatermain, Captain Nemo," M said by way of introduction.

"I know of Mr. Quatermain." Nemo said solemnly.

"And I know of you, captain." Quatermain replied. "Rumor has it that you're a pirate."

"I prefer a less provocative title."

"I'm sure you would."

Now it was Daria's turn to step forward.

"Can we get on with this?" she said with an amused smile. "Pirate, not a pirate, does it really matter? He's going to be working with you, so you might as well get along."

Quatermain looked over at Nemo. "Friend of yours?" he inquired mildly.

Daria frowned mentally at the brush-off, but schooled her face into a blank mask. "Not really. We just met." she said. She did not have a warm-fuzzy feeling about this, recognizing the signs of a typical Victorian male in the way he practically ignored her.

"Mr. Quatermain, this is Miss Daria Noclaf." M said.

"Don't tell me she is going to be a member…" Quatermain said.

Daria folded her arms over her chest and treated the old hunter to a Look. Clearly, being polite and subservient would not work. She had a job to do. "Actually, I am." she said calmly.

"On what basis?" the hunter challenged.

"A great deal of combat, technical, and intelligence-gathering experience, for one." She made a negligent gesture with one hand. The file M had given him floated off of the table and hung there in midair. "In addition to having telekinesis and communications-telepathy, and perhaps one or two other things." Daria eyed Quatermain coldly, her labradorite-colored eyes narrowed slightly in challenge. "Of course, you'd know this if you actually looked at my file instead of assuming superiority based on gender…"

"Gentlemen, Miss Noclaf, please." M cut in before the fur could start flying. The file dropped to the table. "Nations are striking at nations. Every attack marked by the use of highly advanced weaponry."

Daria raised a skeptical eyebrow but said nothing.

"These attacks are all the work of one man," M said, "who calls himself the Fantom."

"Very operatic." Quatermain commented. "What's in it for him?"

"Profit. Those machines are his creations, the work of scientists he holds imprisoned. His attacks have nations clamoring for the weapons that assail them."

"Then it's a race for arms."

"And millions will perish."

"There's one last chance to avert war." M explained. "The leaders of Europe are to meet secretly in Venice."

"And you believe that this Fantom will attack that conference?"

"If he can find it. We need a team to stop him in Venice. This team consists of seven members."

Quatermain nodded, looking through the file folder.

"You'll have four days." M told them.

The hunter looked up in surprise. "Four days to get to Venice?" he asked disbelievingly. "It's impossible."

Daria rolled her eyes. "Careful how you use that word, Mr. Quatermain, especially in this company."

"Let me worry about that." Nemo put in mysteriously. Daria was looking forward to seeing what the East Indian man had in store for them.

"Well now," Quatermain said critically, having returned his attention to the file. "Extraordinary gentlemen indeed. One of them is late." He looked down at a black-and-white photograph attached to the file. "Harker, the chemist."

"Oh, chemist, eh?" said a voice with a cocky Cockney accent. "Do we get to blow something up then?"

"I hope so." Daria said under her breath, a small smile growing on her lips. She knew where Skinner had gotten to after all. This promised to be entertaining. The thief had already shown himself to be rather… mischievious.

Quatermain looked around for the source of the voice. "My eyesight must be worse than I thought," he said, upon seeing no one.

"No, your eyesight's fine," the unseen voice said. It carried distinct overtones of coming from someone wearing a huge smirk on their face.

"No games, M." the hunter said sharply, still searching. M shook his head.

"Some time ago, a talented, albeit misguided, man of science discovered the means to become invisible."

"Yes, I recall the tale, but didn't he die?"

The Cockney voice chuckled. "Well, 'e did, but 'is process didn't. You see, I stole it, and 'ere I stand for all to see."

The room's occupants winced at the terrible pun.

"Is this some parlor game?" Quatermain demanded. He flinched as something invisible slapped the back of his head.

"Boo!" his tormentor said, "Believe it."

Another manila folder slammed onto the table next to him. Quatermain noticed that Daria was gazing at something just behind his chair, eyes half-slitted in concentration. She couldn't _quite_ see him, but she could vaguely make out a patch of air that was distorted ever so slightly, calling to mind a heat haze. He twisted around and shoved at something that felt like human flesh.

"Easy now, Allan." exclaimed the Cockney voice. Its owner backed into a free-standing lamp, causing it to wobble dangerously. "I'm feeling a bit of a draft in my nether regions. And I must say, it's quite refreshing." A trench coat hanging on the back of the chair next to the hunter picked itself up and began to fill up, outlining the figure of an unseen man. "Allow me to introduce myself." The voice now came from the vicinity of the hanging coat. "Rodney Skinner, gentleman thief." A pot of white greasepaint picked itself up and an invisible hand smeared some on the face of its owner. It was a rather odd sight, seeing patches of a face become visible as the makeup outlined it. "Now, I thought invisibility would be a boon to my work." Skinner continued. "Well, as you can imagine, it was my undoing. Once you're invisible, it's bloody 'ard to turn back."

Daria merely raised an eyebrow. "Of course it is."

"We finally caught him." M explained. Skinner finished painting his face and shrugged nonchalantly.

"And they'll provide an antidote. Well, that's if I'm a good boy."

"And are you a good boy?" the auburn-haired woman inquired. Her tone indicated that she doubted it. Skinner smirked at her.

"I guess you'll find out, won't you?"

"I don't need to," she retorted coolly. "I think I found out earlier."

Skinner gave a grand sweeping bow. "Anything for the lady," he replied airily.

"Just be warned that if you go after my gear, you will be very sorry."

"Am I late?" inquired an aristocratic voice before Skinner could reply. The League members turned to see a woman in a black dress, veiled hat, and scarf stroll into the library. M shook his head, smiling.

"A woman's prerogative, Mrs. Harker." he said, waving her to a seat. Quatermain frowned in disgust.

"Please tell me this is Harker's wife with a sick note," he said in an almost pleading tone. Mrs. Harker glided forward.

"Sick would be a mild understatement," she said mildly. "My husband's been dead for years."

Daria's mouth twitched in a grin. "Yep, I'd call that sick." She was already inclined to like this new woman. Then she mentally shook herself. _They are humans, and the only time you will be working with them is for this assignment. Don't go making friends._

"Gentlemen, Miss Noclaf, Mrs. Wilhelmina Harker. Mina's prior acquaintance with a reluctant League member may prove useful."

"I'm waiting to be impressed." Quatermain interjected. He was clearly wondering what the world was coming to, that they needed a League of Extraordinary Gentlemen comprised of an old hunter, a pirate, a thief, and two women.

"The fate of the world is at stake." M told them. "There are two more members to recruit. The clock hands turn, gentlemen. And women." he added with a nod to Daria and Mina Harker.

"Kicking us out already?" Skinner asked, sounding a little hurt. "A moment ago, it was sherry and giggles."

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The group followed Captain Nemo up the long flight of stairs that had led to the underground library. It was pouring rain outside, and anyone not either wearing a hat or carrying an umbrella was almost instantly soaked; specifically, Daria. She held up her hand to protect her eyes from the downpour, looking sour. Her other hand held the edges of a short cloak around her.

_It's STILL raining? Chaos and Fortune, doesn't it ever stop? I HATE water._ Then she chided herself. She had been in London for most of a year. She knew perfectly well that it didn't rain all the time.

At the bottom of the stairs, parked along the side of the road, was a strange white transport with six wheels. Quatermain frowned at it. "What in God's name is that?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's pretty, whatever it is," Daria commented. She had seen nothing like it before, but it was pretty.

Nemo smiled mysteriously. "I call it an automobile," he said.

"Yeah, but what is it?" Skinner cut in.

"The future, gentlemen. The future." Nemo gestured to the black-clad man standing next to the automobile. "This is my first mate."

"Call me Ishmael. Please." the man told them. He waved them into the vehicle. The group filed inn, Nemo and Ishmael in the front, Quatermain, Skinner, Mina, and the wet (and irritated about it) Daria in the back. The back seat was a little crowded with four people in it, and they were forced to jam in together more closely than some would have liked. Skinner, of course, seemed pleased with the arrangement, as he was seated next to Mina Harker. On his other side was Quatermain, and Daria sat on Mina's left, next to the window, with her sword across her knees. Skinner looked over at Quatermain.

"So how did M get you?" he asked.

"None of your business."

Mina watched the exchange with her usual elegant manner. "You're a little testy, Mr. Q. On edge at the risks, perhaps?" she commented. The hunter gazed at her, eye narrowed and hard.

"Please call me by my full name, Mrs. Harker. Let us leave the mysterious single letters to our friend M, all right? Besides, I doubt if a woman would measure danger the way I do." he said. Daria leaned forward to watch the conversation.

_At least I won't be the only one giving 'Mr. Q' a hard time._

"And I imagine you with quite the library, Mr. Quatermain." Mina replied. She was probing his defenses and reactions, trying to get the measure of the famed Allan Quatermain. "All those books you must have read merely by looking at their covers." The hunter raised an eyebrow in a faintly irritated expression.

"I've had women along on past exploits and found them to be, at best..." he trailed off for a moment, as if searching for the right word. "...a distraction." As one, Mina and Daria both assumed identical, innocent expressions.

"Do I distract you?" the two women chimed in unison. Quatermain shook his head.

"My dear girls, I've buried two wives and many lovers, and I'm in no mood for more of either." he told them firmly. Skinner looked over at him, a mischievous look on his grease-painted face.

"You can send them my way..." he began. All three of his companions glared at him.

"Skinner, shut up." they said in a perfect three-part harmony.

The thief turned his attention to Daria. "Well then, how'd he get you then?" he asked.

The woman shrugged. "I was in town finishing up some other business when some upstart puppy calling himself Sanderson Reed showed up asking if I wanted to help save the world. Me being me, of course I had to say yes." She didn't elaborate on the statement. It would go better if they weren't distracted by all the pesky little details as to what she, a Tau'ka Special Agent, was doing on Earth. Or how, for that matter, she and her people existed.

The automobile took them to a rather dingy section of the city and rolled to a stop in front of a run-down old house, putting an end to the conversation. The rain had stopped some time ago.

"Shall I wait, Captain?" Ishmael asked politely. Nemo shook his head.

"No, bring my lady to me." he told his first mate. The other man nodded and drove off, leaving the League standing in front of the old mansion.


	2. Complications

AN: A wink to the readers (no names to be mentioned- you know who you are) who complained that "Queen of Spades" didn't have a whole lot of action in it. well, here is the first dose of action for "Eight-Card Deck".

I love my readers. Kudos and special thanks to **Luli27, Skunk and Hedgehog,** and most recently, **starry-eyed fool**. This update is for you guys.

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Chapter Two: Complications

_London_

_Dorian Gray's Residence_

Skinner scanned their dingy surroundings.

"This is a charming spot," he said ironically. "Does Jack the Ripper live here?"

Daria looked at him, a slight frown on her face as she swung the strap of her sword's sheath over her shoulder. "Who's Jack the Ripper?" she inquired. She hadn't heard of that man before, and she'd spent months working in London's underbelly looking for information on a certain criminal.

"Never mind that, Miss Noclaf." Quatermain told her. He ignored the way she bristled slightly and glanced at his companions, looking to see if anyone was planning to take the initiative and ring the doorbell. Mina and Skinner hung well back, Nemo stood implacably as if he believed the door would have the good sense to open by itself, and Daria simply looked at Quatermain, indicating the door with her eyes. The old hunter shrugged, grasped the ornate brass knocker, and rapped hard on the door.

He heard padding footsteps from within, and the paneled door opened to reveal an aristocratic man dressed in a gray three-piece suit. He was handsome, and had a faintly Spanish look to his features.

"Good evening.' the man said warily.

"Mr. Dorian Gray?" Quatermain inquired.

The man nodded. "I am indeed."

"We came by way of M."

"M for mystery." Gray looked over the group that had appeared on his doorstep as if the were just barely worth his notice. "Well, I've told him and I'm telling you, I'm not interested."

"Hello, Dorian."

Gray stared at the speaker. "Mina?" he asked, his dark eyes widening in recognition as she pushed her way forward. His gaze flickered over the rest of the company: Skinner in his dark glasses and face paint, Quatermain in his hunter's garb, Nemo's colorful turban and uniform-like apparel, and Daria in her cloak and men's dress.

Mina pushed her way past Gray into the shadowy front hall. With the look of a man whose affairs had just been taken out of his hands, Gray waved the others in as well.

"Charming décor." Skinner commented. Quatermain looked at a wall filled with portraits, most likely Gray's ancestors. They all had a slightly malformed look, as if the artist had managed to capture some indefinable evil within each of them. One blank space caught his eye.

"You're missing a picture, Mr. Gray."

Gray paused to look back at Quatermain. "And you don't miss a thing, do you?" he said coolly. The old hunter shrugged.

"Oh, sometimes."

Gray led them into a well-furnished library, which was lined floor-to-ceiling with shelves of leather-bound books. Sliding ladders on rails provided easy access to higher volumes, and a graceful spiral staircase led to a loft above. Daria looked around in approval at the enormous collection, impressed in spite of herself. Meanwhile, Skinner headed straight for a small cart laden with a bottle and glasses.

"Scotch, anyone?" he asked, pouring himself a glass of the amber-colored liquid.

Gray eyed him disapprovingly.

"Please, help yourself." The aristocratic man said, a note of exasperation in his tone.

"Don't let it ruin your makeup," Mina added as she swept by the thief.

Nemo noted their host's lack of astonishment as Skinner whipped off his rain-soaked hat, leaving an empty gap where the back of his head should have been.

"I'm impressed, Mr. Gray. You take Skinner's uniqueness in your stride."

Gray shrugged nonchalantly. "Yes, well, I've seen too much in my life to shock easily. Although, I must say I was surprised to see you again," he added to Mina.

Her response was a bit venomous. "Well, our last parting was such sweet sorrow."

Gray assumed a resigned expression as he poked at a log burning in the ornate fireplace. "So you're nothing more than an enticement." he mused. "Nevertheless, your presence intrigues me. They say you're indestructible, Quatermain. They say you've survived enough exploits to kill a hundred men."

"Someday I must meet this scholar They." Daria muttered. "He and Master Everybody seem to have written so much, and most of it entirely wrong."

"Well, a witch doctor did bless me once." Quatermain said, actually smiling a little at Daria's frank comment "I had saved his village. He said Africa would never allow me to die."

"Ah, but you're not in Africa now."

"No. Therefore, I'd best be careful." Nemo studied Gray curiously.

"I confess a curiosity as to what the files say about Mr. Gray and why he is so important. We, all of us, have traits useful in this endeavor." He gestured, indicating the assembled group. "A hunter, scientist, a psychic, even Skinner has stealth."

"Cheers." Skinner said, raising his glass of sherry.

"I am not a psychic." Daria cut in firmly. "I don't read minds. I communicate through a form of thought-speech." She was constantly having to explain the difference.

Nemo nodded to Daria. "My apologies," he said, then turned back to Gray. "What have you?"

Gray's response carried an odd undertone of weariness. "I have experience." he told them. "A great amount of experience."

Nemo frowned, wondering just how much experience such a young man could have hoped to obtain. Quatermain, meanwhile, was wracking his brains. He swore that he had seen Dorian Gray before. Then it came to him like a charging elephant.

"Gray and I have met before," he said suddenly. "Many years ago at Eton College."

"Where?" Daria asked.

Mina seemed quite amused at Quatermain's declaration. "A lecture, no doubt." she said. "You, the nation's hero; Dorian, the eager listening boy."

"Quite the reverse. It was Gray visiting Eton..." the old hunter said slowly. "…and I was the boy."

Nemo and Mina just stared at their leader. Daria eyed Gray apprehensively.

"He hasn't changed a bit in all those years," Quatermain said. Daria suddenly held up a hand for silence, her posture becoming one of tense listening. Quatermain sensed it a moment later. Both of them scanned the upper floor warily, peering into the shadows.

"What is it?" Mina whispered.

Quatermain didn't answer, holding up his own hand to indicate the need for silence.

"You seem to be overreacting-" Gray began. Then they all heard it- a soft creak of the floorboards above them. Mina and Daria both crouched instinctively. The Tau'ka cautiously reached for the zat'nikitel she was carrying in a holster at her side. She wasn't the best shot, but the weapon would stun its target the first time they were hit with its discharge, so she wouldn't run the risk of killing an ally by accident. Nearby, Quatermain eased out his revolver, taking comfort in its heavy weight in his hand.

A group of marksmen suddenly appeared in the shadows above their heads, rifle barrels extended and aimed at them. The dark metal gleamed in the light of the fire and lamps.

"What is this, Gray? Your own brand of home security?"

Gray surveyed the gunmen with a look of distaste. "They are not mine." he proclaimed. "They're mine."

Another figure appeared from the shadows, taking a position at the top of the graceful spiral staircase. He wore a heavy overcoat and black gloves, and a silver mask covered the upper half of a disfigured face.

The League froze, not daring to move in the face of so many weapons. Silence reined before Quatermain broke it.

"First meetings usually warrant introductions," he said boldly. He ignored the way that all of the rifles shifted slightly to aim at him specifically. He was focusing instead upon the masked man.

"Of course. I am the Fantom." The masked man looked them over critically. "You are the League of so-called Extraordinary Gentlemen. Introductions made." The firelight glimmered on his mask, turning it orange instead of silver. He descended down the spiral staircase like some evil overlord coming to inspect the opposition. "Oh, and I'm scarred, Mr. Quatermain, not blind. Drop the gun." He turned to face Daria. "That goes for you as well, Miss Noclaf."

They glanced at the rifles still aimed at them, and dropped their weapons. Daria frowned as she did so, wondering if the marksmen would dare fire with their leader likely to be caught in a crossfire. A movement in the shadows above caught her attention. She risked a glance upwards, her sharp gray-green eyes picking out the source. One of the marksmen didn't quite fit the mold that had cast his companions- there was something in his stance that set him apart. The facts that his hair was too long and his shirt didn't match the others were definite distinguishing features.

The young misfit had been trying to catch Quatermain's attention. When the hunter picked him out, he winked down at him, his blue eyes bright. Daria spotted the slightest hint of recognition in Quatermain's eyes. She lowered her gaze back to the Fantom, not wanting to call attention to a possible ally, and the hunter did the same. Quatermain could not, however, do what Daria did then. She cast out a silent message to the phony marksman.

_Wait until the time is right._

"Your mission is to stop me," the Fantom was saying. "That, of course, I cannot permit. So I give to you all a special one-time invitation." He looked around at them all in a grand manner in keeping with his grand entrance. "Join me."

"You think we'll help start a war that will consume this planet?" Daria scoffed. For a brief second, she considered calling her weapon to her hand, but decided against it. If the Fantom knew her name, he might also be aware of her telekinetic ability. She would be cut down the moment her gun so much as twitched.

"While you profit from your arms race?" Quatermain added boldly.

"Fat chance of that one." she finished.

"I cannot deny that fortunes are made in war," the Fantom admitted. "Imagine the riches a world war will yield."

"'E's not wrong." Skinner piped up. "I find gold to be a beautiful 'ue." He raised his glass in a sort of toast. "Like this Scotch."

Daria and the Fantom both spotted the way Quatermain glanced at the revolver on the floor. "Remind me to play cards against you some day." the Fantom commented. "You have a face like an open book." He kicked the weapon away, and it clattered to a rest under one of the railed ladders.

The masked villain looked around at them all impatiently. "So what's it to be?" he demanded. "Do Quatermain and Miss Noclaf speak for you all?"

"Your evil is palpable," Mina proclaimed. "Even one such as myself must maintain her standards. I have associated with vile men before" –here she shot a quick glance at Dorian Gray- "but I do have certain standards."

The aristocratic man simply looked bored. "I don't care for guns in my home." he said blandly. "And I don't recall extending an invitation to any of you."

"I, on the other 'and, always side with the superior force." Skinner stepped forward, the white paint on his face showing a grin. "Take me, Fantom. I'm yours."

Daria glared at him. _If you always side with the superior force, then you'd better get your butt back over here, _she silently told the invisible man.

Nemo darted forward and was at Skinner's side in less the time it took to blink. He put a firm hand on the thief's shoulder and squeezed hard enough to make him squirm under the pressure. "Skinner is with me," he said flatly, treating the Fantom to a dark look. "And I am with them."

Daria thought that perhaps Nemo had received her telepathic communication, rather than Skinner. Some people were like that.

The Fantom sighed in a theatrical manner. "Then I'm truly saddened. I had hoped you would take advantage of an obvious opportunity." He lifted a black gloved hand. "Men!"

The riflemen aimed, cocking their weapons and drawing back the firing bolts.

They never hit their intended targets. With a fierce yell, the young imposter suddenly turned his weapon on his fellow marksmen and blasted away. Two of them died instantly before the 'traitor' wheeled and dove for cover. The Fantom whirled in surprise.

That was the signal for all hell to break loose. Nemo and Mina darted for shelter as Quatermain shoved the nearest ladder along its railing. It smashed into protruding rifle barrels as it went, wrenching several free of their owners' grips.

The men on the other side of the library opened fire without hesitation. Bullets screamed through the air, shredding books and paintings, shattering artwork.

"What a horrid thing to do to a library." Daria muttered. She focused, drawing on her telekinetic powers, and leaped nearly ten feet onto the upper rungs of the ladder Quatermain had taken advantage of. From the closer range, she could read the titles of Gray's collection. "Never mind," she amended, noting the randy titles of the books by her nose. She swung into the loft and tackled the nearest rifleman with a loud yell.

Below, Gray staggered under the impact of multiple bullets. His classy suit was riddled with the bullet holes, and his face wore an expression of surprised displeasure. Mina screamed his name and struggled to get to him. Nemo held her back.

Meanwhile, Skinner had splashed the remains of his Scotch into his face to help dissolve his makeup. He wiped it away and yanked off his long overcoat, vanishing completely as he did so.

Daria kicked a marksman off the second floor and gestured. Her zat'nikitel flew into her hand. The Goa'uld weapon was made of dark metal and shaped like a snake about to strike. She disengaged the safety and fired at one of the henchmen. A bolt of brilliant blue energy arced from it to her target with a sort of twanging noise. The man collapsed, twitching. A second shot ended his spastic movements. She paused for a second, surprised that she'd actually managed to hit her intended target.

The young imposter had reloaded and was advancing on the other marksmen. Cocking his weapon one-handed, he yanked the concealing handkerchief from his face. Then he fired again. To his disbelief, the shots bounced off of their targets. Daria realized that the henchmen were wearing body armor of some kind. She whistled shrilly to get the misfit's attention.

"Here!" she shouted, tossing her weapon at him. He caught it easily. "One shot stuns, two kill!" He nodded his thanks and opened fire while Daria dropped to the library floor and rolled for cover behind a large chair.

Mina managed to wrench herself free of Nemo's grip and stepped away from their shelter. She suddenly gasped in shock as she saw Gray, who was still on his feet, unhurt, and drawing a slender, wickedly sharp sword from its cane-sheath. He stormed into the fray showing no evidence of wounds.

The Fantom sprinted for the staircase that would lead him to safety. Quatermain spotted him, lunged for his revolver, and fired after the masked man to no effect. He cursed the body armor the man wore and ran after him under their mysterious ally's cover fire.

Nemo stepped out of the shadows upon seeing such an insane act of bravery.

"Draw your pistol!" one of the marksmen snapped.

Nemo looked the man over with a cold indifference. "I walk a different path." he rumbled. Before the men could open fire, the captain exploded into ferocious action. He lashed out with hands and knees and elbows and booted feet, raining a punishing series of blows upon his unfortunate victims. Body armor or no, the marksmen were no match for the sheer kinetic power of Nemo's lethal attacks. He seemed unshootable- a menace against which the shooters had no defense. They had never seen anything like this whirling dervish. The captain's face wore such an intense and merciless expression that enemies scattered like bowling pins as they tried to escape.

Some of the marksmen managed to escape from the blue, silver, and brown blur that was Nemo, only to run into something worse- Daria had joined the fight again. Her approach was similar to the Indian man's, relying heavily upon acrobatic martial arts, but with a devastating addition- her heavy broadsword. The weapon served admirably to cleave through the body armor of the Fantom's men. With a yell, she charged a hapless opponent and ran him through.

Across the room, Skinner was making himself useful. He'd found a heavy book that hadn't been shredded by flying bullets and sneaked up on a man trying to get a bead on Nemo. The man whirled in response to a tap on his shoulder. "Night-night." Skinner said, and slammed the book into the other man's face.

Dorian Gray was wading into enemies, his own slender sword whistling as he swung it. He seemed oblivious to the innumerable wounds he was taking- the only sign that he knew he was hit was a less-than-convincing "Ow." One mortally wounded man slumped against him, taking a death grip in the front of Gray's jacket. The fabric tore as he collapsed, showing Gray's wounds healing completely in seconds.

"What are you?" the henchman gasped.

Gray pulled his sword from the man's body and kicked him aside.

"I'm complicated."

Daria killed her last opponent and stared at Gray, eyes wide. "Unnatural..." she said softly. Tau'ka healed quickly, and Goa'uld healed even faster, but she'd never seen anything like the way Gray's wounds just _disappeared_.

"I thought I was special." Skinner said to the aristocrat as the group began to reassemble. Nemo checked for survivors among the bodies strewn around, but the look on his face made it difficult to determine whether or not mercy was in store for those who lived. "You're invulnerable to harm."

One mortally wounded man saw Nemo coming, gave a panicked squeak, and died. The captain gave no response.

"I don't like to boast." Gray told him. "What happened to Mina?"

Quatermain, who had just joined them from futilely chasing after the Fantom, heard the question. "Oh, she's probably hip-deep in some sort of trouble."

The subject of their conversation appeared from the shadows, brushing a few spatters of blood off of her dress. "Don't be such an alarmist, Mr. Q." she said admonishingly. "And my hips are none of your business."

The last surviving marksman darted out of a shadowy alcove and desperately grabbed Mina, holding a sharp knife to her throat. The fine silk scarf she wore would be no protection against the razor-sharp blade. He held Mina before him like a living shield.

Skinner froze in the process of pouring himself yet another Scotch. Quatermain drew his revolver as Nemo dropped into a fighting position. Daria drew her heavy broadsword. Fastest of all of them was the mysterious imposter, who leaped down from the upper levels of the library and aimed his rifle at the henchman. "Let 'er go, Mister, or I'll shoot ya!" he shouted.

Daria personally thought that he must have more guts than sense, but it was a heartfelt gesture, she was sure.

The Fantom's marksman was cornered, with nothing to lose. "Shoot!" he snarled. "Go on! I'll kill her on reflex!" The hand holding the knife twitched threateningly. Mina's head lolled forward, her hair falling into disarray in front of her face.

Standoff. Slowly, the League members lowered their weapons or backed away to non-threatening distances. The henchmen sneered in triumph.

"I guessed as much, that they would do anything to protect you," he said to Mina.

Mina's response was low and threatening.

"See, now that's your biggest mistake," she murmured, "Thinking that I need them to protect me." She raised her head. Her eyes gleamed an unearthly red, and when she opened her mouth, it was to reveal a pair of long, ivory fangs like sabers.

Daria gulped.

The marksman cried out in terror and tried to get away, but the vampiress was on him in a second, her gleaming fangs tearing at his throat. Blood from torn arteries sprayed as she bit, ripping out the unfortunate henchman's windpipe. The dagger clattered harmlessly to the floor.

Daria said something in Goa'uld that was definitely not ladylike as Mina let the dead marksman drop to the ground.

Quatermain turned to Nemo, thoroughly stunned. "Extraordinary."

The young imposter propped his rifle at his side as Mina's features reverted to normal. She pulled out a small mirror and began dabbing blood from her mouth with a soft white cloth.

"Boy, they told me European women had funny ways." the handsome young man said. "There, Ma'am, you missed a spot." He pointed out a stray drop of blood on Mina's cheek.

"Excuse me," she murmured cleaning it up.

Daria regarded the newcomer intently, the multicolored specks in her irises glittering brightly. "And you are?"

Quatermain and the rest of the League turned to him, waiting for his answer.

"I'm Special Agent Sawyer," he said proudly, "of the American Secret Service."

Most of the League stared at young Sawyer in surprise, but as usual, Skinner had to get his two cents in. "So, you're a… spy? I thought spies get shot." Daria glared at him.

"Not if they shoot first," she said flatly.

"Which I did," Sawyer added with a good deal of enthusiasm. I followed y'all. I knocked out a straggler, and I took his place." He rapped on the brim of the metal hat he wore as part of his disguise. "Darned silly outfits."

"The bad guys usually wear them." Daria commented. "Jaffa, stormtroopers, those army guys in the ridiculous red coats…" She belatedly realized the nationality of most of her companions and added quickly, "Not that they're necessary _bad _guys…" She shut up quickly before she dug the hole any deeper around herself.

Fortunately for her, the others seemed to overlook her comment. Quatermain frowned at Sawyer. "Then America is aware of the situation?"

Sawyer nodded. "If war starts in Europe, how long will it take until it crosses the Atlantic? We've already lost one good man trying to nail this maniac. The man who fell victim to the Fantom was another agent- and a darned good one too. A close friend of mine. He believed in what he was doing. And now I'm going to finish the job."

Gray did not seem convinced. He noticed Mina seizing up the young American and clearly wasn't happy about it. "Very noble." He sniffed. "But this is a private party, and you're not invited."

Mina smiled and stepped closer to Sawyer. "Actually, Dorian has declined..." she purred, "...so we are one shy of a full deck."

Sawyer swallowed hard, remembering the incident moments ago involving Mina, throats, and fangs. He flinched a bit from her close attention. "Uh, Ma'am…"

Gray rose to the challenge. "On the contrary, the battle was just the spur I needed. A taste of excitement, with the promise of more to come." He bowed slightly to Mina. "That, and the thrill of a friendship renewed."

The two women rolled their eyes in identical expressions of distaste.

"So you're not needed." Gray said.

Meanwhile, Quatermain came forward to inspect Sawyer's rifle as its owner glared at Gray.

"Winchester?" he inquired.

"That's right." Sawyer said, proud to show off his piece and happy to ignore the glaring Gray. "It's modified, American style."

Quatermain picked up the weapon and sighted along the barrel at an unoffending bookshelf. "American-style shooting too." he commented.

"Well, whatever it takes." Sawyer said. He grinned eagerly at the adventurer. "You like it? I brought two."

"He's in." Quatermain said.


	3. Sword of the Ocean

AN: Another chapter for ya'll, and a wave to **Sylence** for joining my merry little band of readers. You guys all rock.

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Chapter Three: The Sword of the Ocean

_The Thames, London_

_Night_

They trooped outside into the foggy street. Sawyer glanced back at Gray's residence. "I sure hate to leave such a mess in there. My Aunt Polly would give me a tongue-lashing I'd never forget."

Gray was unconcerned, telling the young American that his staff would see to the house.

"Just one last member to recruit." Nemo said. He led the way to the docks on the fog-shrouded river with long, commanding strides.

"Recruit?" Quatermain interjected. "Capture is more the word, and it will be quite a hunt. Although I prefer the open savannah to the streets of Paris."

"You make him sound like some kind of animal," Mina commented.

"Oh, speaking thus, Mrs. Harker, your conduct a moment ago...?"

"Indeed." Skinner piped in. "We are all aquiver with curiosity."

Daria nodded. "I've seen a fair bit, and that wasn't anything like I'd ever come across." It had actually been slightly disturbing, watching Mina tear out that man's throat with her fangs. While Daria was no stranger to death, she usually preferred to be a little less… up close and personal when she killed someone.

"Don't think you are off the hook yourself, Miss Noclaf." Quatermain said with his eyes still on Mina.

Mina looked at her intrigued companions. "Well...in the spirit of cooperation…My husband was Jonathan Harker. With a professor named Van Helsing, we fought a dangerous evil. It had a name: Count Dracula. He was Transylvanian." None of her companions gave any sign of recognition, although Daria muttered something about really needing to read more.

"European?" Skinner cut in. "One of those radical anarchists the newspapers love to report on?"

"I don't know, Mr. Skinner," she said slowly. She pulled down the scarf she always wore around her neck, revealing a pair of old puncture marks on her pale throat. "Is the vampiric sucking of people's blood radical behavior?"

Tom Sawyer looked away in mixed embarrassment and horror, Gray admired her neck, and Quatermain studied the scars, wondering just what sort of creature would leave such wounds. Daria shivered and rubbed the back of her own neck.

"In the course of battling Dracula, I was brought under his influence. Rather violently. That monster has been destroyed no and I have recovered. Partially, at least. However, if I ever appear cold to you, it's because I am filled with enough of Dracula's essence that I fear where unbridled emotion would lead." She gazed at Quatermain as if daring him to pass judgment.

He didn't; instead, he turned to Daria with an inquisitive expression. "And what of you, Miss Noclaf?"

"Yes indeed," Skinner added. "It's bloody unusual for a woman to learn to fight, especially like that."

Daria raised an eyebrow. _Might as well get this over with. A little shock and awe might not be a bad idea, if it'll keep them out of my hair. _"You humans and your ill-conceived notions of gender roles." she said critically.

Gray frowned at her. "What do you mean by "you humans"?" he asked.

"Exactly what I said." Daria brushed a stray lock of auburn hair out of her face. "It means I'm not."

"Not human?" Sawyer asked. His blue eyes widened warily, and he reached automatically for his Winchester. "An' here I thought vampire was bad. What are you?"

She gave a little half-bow. "Special Agent Daria Noclaf of the Tau'ka, Investigative Intelligence Division." she said formally.

Gray's frown deepened. "So you are an alien spy," he said sharply. Daria nodded._ That was a quick conclusion,_ she thought, making a note of it for later contemplation.

"What are the Tau'ka?" Skinner asked. "Quite frankly, you look plenty human to me."

The corner of Daria's mouth twitched, hinting at a bemused smile. "Ten thousand years ago, my people were human. That is, until the System Lord Hecate took them and physically changed them at the most basic level. The humans she took were modified for increased strength, speed, health, and life span." The ghost-smile vanished as she continued. "That leads into why I'm here. I have reason to believe that the Tau'ri- the humans of Earth- will one day be instrumental in fighting Hecate's people. I'm here to help ensure that that happens."

The others stared at her. In the distance a dog barked. Further in the distance, another dog answered it.

"How do you reckon that last bit, Ma'am?" Sawyer asked. His face was still pale, but at least his hand had retreated from his rifle. She turned her spectrolite gaze on the young American.

"Some of my people are Precognitives- future-seers. Don't think about it, unless you want a migraine that will last for a month." she advised. "And I want my zat'nikitel back."

"Your what?" Sawyer asked.

"My weapon."

"Oh!" Sawyer handed back the silver-black handgun. Daria smiled, pleased at the reactions of the group in spite of herself. She holstered the weapon, thinking that it was just as well Sawyer had been the one using it-at least he managed to hit his target.

"Enough stories." Nemo cut in abruptly. A loud rumbling, churning sound began to emanate from the black waters of the Thames River. The captain smiled mysteriously. "Our transportation is forthcoming. We will be in Paris soon."

"A boat?" Sawyer asked inquisitively. He seemed to have recovered from his earlier shock. "I've been on a big paddle-wheel steamer on the Mississippi."

"It travels on water," Nemo told him. There was a slight hint of disdain in his deep voice, as if that was the only thing a boat had in common with their forthcoming transportation. "If that's what you mean." He stepped to the edge of the dock and looked back at his companions. "And beneath it as well."

Behind him, a huge black tower rose majestically from the swirling waters. Nemo didn't flinch as the great vessel ascended barely four feet away from him. Its tower loomed over him, nearly hiding him in its enormous shadow.

"Whoa," said Sawyer, neatly summarizing what was in everyone's heads.

The tower was barely the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Long and graceful, guarded by gleaming white armor plating and decorated with golden statues of Indian gods.

Skinner stepped back, jaw somewhere in the general vicinity of the ground as Quatermain and Sawyer crowded forward to get a better look. Gray didn't seem to be very impressed, but Nemo's pride was etched all over his normally impassive face.

"Behold Nautilus," he said grandly, "the Sword of the Ocean."

The members of the League stood together at the end of the dock and watched the massive colossus ease gracefully against the jetty.

Daria clapped her hands, pleasantly awed and impressed. She'd been wondering how they were going to get to Italy. "Very pretty," she said. "I'm no expert on submarine craft, but I have to say you have a beautiful Lady there, Captain Nemo."

Nemo beamed. "Next stop, Paris." he announced.

The Tau'ka paused, going pale. "Wait, you mean we're going to be _sailing_?" She followed the others onboard, protesting, "I don't much care for water - no one said anything about actually _traveling_ on water…"


	4. The First Hunt

AN : Waves to **starry-eyed fool**, **Sylence**, and **Skunk and Hedgehog** for reviewing. As you know by now, you each get responses to your comments. You guys all totally rock. And as a reward, here is a bit of action to whet your appetite. You can expect another post on either Tuesday or Wednesday, or (gasp) maybe both.

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Chapter Four : The First Hunt

_Rue Morgue, Paris, France_

_Night_

A monstrous figure bounded across tiled roofs, eaves, and chimney pots, his bare feet slapping against the hard surfaces. He reached a gap between two buildings and leaped over it, landing heavily on the other side with a grunt. For a moment, his shadow played over the street below, silhouetted against the pale golden moon.

Another shadow eclipsed the first. While the monster scrambling across the rooftops was mostly human-shaped, the creature pursuing was not. Nor was it the only pursuer.

"This way!" Quatermain shouted from the street as he chased the creature above him.

"I got it!" Sawyer replied. The two men hurried through the streets of Paris, close behind the human-shaped monster. "But I don't see what we need a big monkey for."

Allan Quatermain was a bit winded but managing to keep up with his American companion. "Well, this big monkey has terrorized the Rue Morgue for months. Imagine the mayhem he'll give the enemy- if we can manage to get him on our side, that is."

The second creature's shadow passed over the two men, and Sawyer glanced up at it. He caught a glimpse of four clawed legs, a beaked head, and a pair of long, pointed wings before the creature passed out of sight.

The American swung his Winchester, looking for the man-shaped beast. "Well, I still think Inspector Dupin could have offered a bigger reward if he was so keen on stopping this beast.

"We all suffer from budgetary constraints, Sawyer. Welcome to the modern world."

Above, the winged creature reached an altitude it deemed appropriate and folded its wings partially. It dove, taloned foreclaws extended forward as it zipped toward the other creature, a high-pitched cry emanating from its throat.

The man-thing roared in fury as the huge feathered shape shot past, nearly knocking him from the roof in its wake.

Quatermain spotted the encounter and fired twice. His bullets shattered a narrow chimney, forcing the man-beast to veer to the right as the bird-thing swooped back into the sky.

"You missed!" Sawyer cried.

"I'm not trying to hit him." the hunter replied. "Turn left, Mr. Hyde." he muttered as he fired again. The winged creature dove in the wake of Quatermain's shots, passing close to the man-beast.

Sawyer aimed and fired five times in quick succession. All to no effect.

At least, they had no effect on the creature he was hunting. The winged creature was forced to land suddenly as the bullets whistled around it. One hit the creature obliquely, snapping one of the great primary feathers.

Its owner shrieked indignantly, talons scrabbling on the slick roof tiles and wings beating frantically as it tried to keep its balance.

"If you can't do it with one bullet, don't do it at all." Quatermain admonished his younger companion.

The man-beast whirled, swinging a huge fist at the shrieking creature behind him. The avian scrambled back, hissing as it swiped at its quarry. Talons three inches long lashed out, whistling though the air. Their target spun and raced the other way across the rooftops.

"He's doubled back!" Sawyer exclaimed.

"Precisely." Quatermain said. "He doesn't know where we want him to go. Come on! We'll wrap this up soon."

Sawyer ran ahead of the older man around a left hand corner just as something large and made of stone crashed to the street.

"Look out!" Quatermain snatched his companion's arm and yanked him out of the path of the falling stone missile. It smashed to the cobblestones, missing Sawyer by mere inches. "That was naughty of him."

"Thanks."

"Eyes open, boy. This isn't a coon hunt, and I can't protect you all the time." He paused, sniffing the air like a wolf. "Ah, he's afraid. It won't be long now, mark my words."

"I can't smell anything." Sawyer complained. "Just the gutters."

The winged creature shot by overhead, wings beating strongly. It screeched, the sound like a battle-cry as it buzzed the apelike beast again before wheeling back into the sky.

"Perfect." Quatermain said as he watched the flying creature's progress. He aimed upward and fired several shots that drove the man-thing from its attempt to get under the cover of some nearby shadows. The monster had no choice but to back away, trying to dodge the attack. The combined onslaught of whistling bullets and slashing, raptor-like talons drove the creature closer to a steep, tiled roof sloping onto a cul-de-sac.

Finally, the beast was forced to leap onto the tiled rooftop. With another screech, the four-legged avian followed, landing above its quarry with wings waving for balance. Talons scrabbled on the old tiles, knocking them loose enough to slide under the man-beast's weight. He scrabbled for purchase as they slipped beneath him, clattering to the street below like a ceramic avalanche.

The avian swiped at him, its clawed 'hand' curled into a fist. He ducked, and more tiles slid free, carrying him down into the cul-de-sac below. His tormentor steadied itself, then threw back its beaked head and shrieked; a piercing, triumphant cry that rang out over the streets of Paris.

"Perfect," Quatermain said. He pulled out a flare gun and launched its bright projectile into the night sky. The brilliant light clearly illuminated the man beast on the cobblestones as he sat up, cradling his temples from the pain of the impact.

"We've got to get it before it moves!" Sawyer said.

"Not to worry for now," the hunter replied. "Captain Nemo rigged up a little surprise."

The huge, man-shaped thing staggered to his feet, belatedly realizing that he had fallen on top of a thin mesh net made of wire and rope- a hidden booby-trap that suddenly activated. The edges suddenly gathered together with a sharp snap, engulfing its prey like an octopus.

A cable attached to the net suddenly came to life, dragging its captive burden along behind it down the cul-de-sac, around corners, along the street, all at an insanely high speed. Helpless, the monster within was bumped and jostled along his one-way journey.

Straight into the waiting hatch in the side of the _Nautilus_.

The heavy metal door slammed shut with a ringing note of finality.

Back at the cul-de-sac, the four-legged avian sprang down from the rooftop to land by Quatermain and Sawyer. As the two men looked on, its form shifted and shrank, trading feathers for clothing, talons for hands, a beak for a human face.

Furious, Daria Noclaf rounded on Sawyer. "What the bloody hell were you doing??" she shouted angrily, her temper allowing her distinctly Goa'uld accent to come back in full force. Her gray-green eyes were blazing. "You _shot _me! Chaos and Fortune, I've seen dead Jaffa with better aim!"

Quatermain didn't come to the younger man's rescue as Daria vented her irritation with the American in at least two languages other than English. Instead, he led the way back to Nemo's remarkable ship. Softly, he said, "Welcome aboard, Mr. Hyde. Now on to Venice."

AN: Daria's little fit was a combination of indignation and an attempt to frighten Sawyer into improving his aim before he actually hurts someone. She's not particularly thrilled with him at the moment, but she's not really about to fly off the handle.


	5. I'm Yours

AN: Thanks to **Skunk and Hedgehog**, **Master of the Boot**, **Sylence**, and **Starry-eyed Fool** for the wonderful reviews. Here I am, updating as promised. You guys are awesome.

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Chapter Five: I'm Yours

The _Nautilus_

Inside her assigned cabin, Mina Harker grumbled as she unpacked her chemistry equipment. She was not happy with Alan Quatermain's objections to her participating in the mission, especially the one that had just taken place in the streets of Paris. "This hunt's too dangerous for a woman," she growled, mimicking the old hunter's voice, "even one such as you. Leave it to me, the incredibly brave and strong _male_." She wondered why she hadn't done what Daria had, namely invite herself along without regard to Quatermain's protests.

"If you're going to be tracking something that moves in three dimensions," the Tau'ka had said in a flat tone that allowed no arguments, "then you need to _hunt_ it with something that moves in three dimensions."

A thunderous bang shook the walls of the _Nautilus_, rattling Mina out of her rant against the hunter. As her cabin shelves rattled, a rack of test tubes crashed to the deck, prompting Mina to let out a long string of unladylike curses. She headed out into the corridor to investigate. Rodney Skinner and an irritated Dorian Gray joined up with her at an intersection.

"Heh! The Great White Hunter must have bagged 'is prize!" the invisible man commented. "Maybe we can all get together for tea. I think 'e must be just your kind of man, Mrs. 'Arker."

"I think not," Gray and Mina said simultaneously.

They hurried towards the sound of chaos. As they approached, one of Nemo's more unfortunate crewmen flew out of a doorway, hit the bulkhead hard, and slumped to the floor, groaning.

"Or perhaps the prize bagged him." Gray said with a smirk.

The trio entered the thick-walled ice room and stopped at the hatchway, gaping in shock as the huge creature- some monstrous hybrid of man and giant ape- hurled himself against the thick shackles that bound him, hands and neck, to the wall of the chamber.

Quatermain, Sawyer, Nemo, and Daria stood at a safe distance from the beast, who wore the tattered remnants of a gentlemen's clothing.

The Tau'ka vaguely noticed the arrival of the three other members of the League. "_Obi tan. Nemet kree_," she ordered them automatically, not taking her eyes off of the creature chained in the center of the room.

"Henry, you've got to calm yourself," the hunter was saying, evidently trying to be reasonable. "Think pleasant-"

"I'm _Edward Hyde!_" the monster bellowed. "Not that worm Jekyll!" He thrashed against his restraints, but they held for now.

"That obviously isn't going to work," Daria commented. Primly, she wiped a drop of the beast's saliva off of her face. "'Think pleasant thoughts, Mr. Hyde', yeah right. Why are we trying to convince a giant mutant monkey-thing to join us anyway?"

The trio in the doorway approached with various degrees of doubt about the situation.

"Stay back, if you value your life." Quatermain warned them.

Hyde lunged forward, but was drawn up short by the manacle around his neck. Skinner scrambled backward in surprise, and stumbled. Roughly, Gray grabbed the invisible man by the arm and hauled him to his feet.

"You scratched me." Skinner whined.

"Better me than him." Gray released him and surveyed the room with a critical air. "Well, this is nice." he said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"I was about to suggest music," Mina commented. "Soothing the savage beast, and all that."

"Debussy," Hyde interjected. Everyone in the League, except for Quatermain, seemed startled by the cultured suggestion. Daria raised an eyebrow that clearly stated "Excuse me?" The man-beast sneered. "That is, if you want to get on my good side. Debussy usually works, though Jekyll prefers Mozart. Sissy music."

"I could play my mouth harp," Sawyer suggested. Daria groaned, having just come to an unpleasant conclusion.

"Jekyll? No, no, you have got to be kidding me. Not again," she muttered. "Not another one of _them_."

Sawyer looked at her in confusion. "Another one of what?"

"If you knew just how often I've had to work with someone with multiple personalities…And I thought the_ go'tak _Tok'Ra were bad…" She trailed off.

"Huh?"

"Mr. Hyde," Quatermain was saying, "You've done terrible things in England. So terrible that you fled the country."

Hyde cackled gleefully. It wasn't a nice sound.

"Now, I'm ashamed to say that Her Majesty's government is willing to offer you amnesty in return for your services on this particular mission. Do you want to go home?"

"Home is where the heart is, that's what they say. I've ripped out a few hearts in my time. Tough to chew."

At this declaration, Sawyer and Daria both looked a little pale.

"Ah, the stink of the Thames," Hyde continued, "all the people coughing with tuberculosis, the hopelessness, the desperate poor. And they never did catch the Ripper, did they? Outdid even my best work- must have come straight from Hell, and then gone back there.

"I know a few people on Sokarr's prison moon whom I'd love to introduce you to," Daria muttered.

Hyde shifted like a caged tiger. "I have been missing London after all. Its sorrow is as sweet to me as a rare wine. I am yours." He slumped back against the metal wall cooperatively. His great head turned towards Mina. "By the by, call me a beast again, Miss. Please? I'm liable to become affectionate." He smiled slyly to everyone. "Aww, don't be scared."

"Who says I'm afraid?" Sawyer quipped.

"You do!" Hyde roared. Without any apparent effort, he lunged forward. One of the restraining chains ripped clean out of the wall. "You stink of fear!" he snarled, lashing the chain through the air like a bullwhip. Quatermain and Sawyer ducked to avoid its deadly length.

Daria didn't budge. Her hand snapped up as the chain whistled towards her, and clenched into a fist, tightly enough that the others could see the way the tendons in her wrist shone white against her skin. The chain halted in midair mere inches from her, caught in a firm telekinetic grip. Her arm trembled with the effort of stopping it, but she gazed defiantly at Hyde.

"Quite the parlor trick." Gray commented, unnerved but obviously pretending to be interested. No one was quite certain to whom the immortal was referring.

"You call that a parlor trick?" Hyde growled. He winced suddenly, as if in pain. He doubled over as the pain escalated, tearing through his gigantic form. "You wait till you see my next one." Hyde gasped for breath as he added, "Abracadabra."

The group looked on in morbid fascination at the transformation caught Edward Hyde in its throes. Limbs shook as they shrank, and his gigantic, muscle-bound torso convulsed as it changed. Daria winced as Hyde thrashed, slamming into the metal wall and jerking away with enough force to rip the chains free, even the one she held in midair.

Sawyer leaned a bit closer to her. "Does it hurt that much when you transform, Ma'am?" he asked softly, eyes wide as he watched the monster.

She shook her head. "Not once you get used to it," she said in an undertone. "And _my_ shapeshifting is between much more varied forms." The Tau'ka shuddered as Hyde let loose a particularly agonized cry.

A moment later another man lay huddled on the deck where Hyde had been. He was rather scrawny- thin enough to slip his entire hand out of Hyde's wrist-shackle- and soaked in sweat.

"At least he fits those clothes better now," Skinner pointed out helpfully.

The man who had replaced Hyde stood, trembling, eyes wide with nerves as he swallowed hard. "Dr. J-Jekyll..." he stammered. "...at your service. And I would very much like to earn my pardon and return to London." Jekyll looked around at them nervously. "May I have a glass of water, please?" he squeaked.

Daria's cold expression melted as she saw him huddled there, shaking in fear. She stepped forward and draped her short cloak around Jekyll's thin shoulders. "Well then, welcome to the League, Doctor." The first true smile any of them had ever seen on her crossed her face, her normally stern expression transmuting to something rather like compassion. "Why don't we go get you that water?"

AN: Daria's use of Goa'uld, 'Obi tan. Nemet kree.", translates roughly to 'Stop. Stay back." '_Go'tak_' is a general term of derision- the Tau'ka and the Tok'Ra do _not_ get on well.


	6. Suspicions

AN: I'm updating 'cause I'm bored. You guys are lucky.

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Chapter Six: Suspicions

The _Nautilus_

"So the League is set." Quatermain said as the eight members gathered inside the _Nautilus's_ generously furnished parlor. "Now we can finally be about our work."

"That's good," Daria said, "With all this dawdling, I thought we'd never get anything done."

The hunter raised an eyebrow as Nemo turned around from a wall unit that had just spit out a piece of ticker tape. "Also set is the time and precise location of the conference. We have three days."

Sawyer was rather incredulous. "Three days to get all the way to Italy? Can this canoe do that?"

"You underestimate the Nautilus." Nemo said. He crossed over to the open porthole- which Daria had been scrupulously avoiding- to gaze out at the swirling underwater view. "You underestimate her greatly."

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"And Nemo says you'll be bunking down here," Daria said, indicating a door on the left side of the corridor. "Skinner's next to you, Sawyer's next to him, and Mina, Gray, and Quatermain are across the corridor. "My rooms are around the corner."

Jekyll's blue-gray eyes followed her gestures and he nodded nervously, still as skittish and lost-looking as a wet alley cat. "Thank you, Miss Noclaf," he said. He put a hand on the door leading to his room.

"Someone should have brought your equipment already," Daria continued. "If there's anything you need, let someone know." She left him and headed around the corner to her own rooms.

At the entrance she paused, staring. The door, which she distinctly remembered closing securely, was not entirely shut. Daria leaned forward, listening for any sound within. It was silent within, so she nudged the door open with a toe.

There was nobody inside. She peered around at the room's contents critically.

Her gaze fell on a pile of computer equipment. The sophisticated devices were piled together in a jumble, and something seemed to be missing.

"That's not how I left you," she murmured. Clearly, someone had been in her quarters. But who?

The alien picked up a small scanning device and ran it over the doorknob. As she had expected, there were minute traces of biological debris- unique tracings left by shed skin cells and oil. In short: fingerprints. The little device whirred as it traced the three sets of fingerprints it found: Daria's own, and two others.

"Provide DNA analysis," she instructed in Goa'uld. Her scanner whirred as it sorted through genetic markers.

A few minutes later, she had a partial answer. One of the mystery prints was tagged as belonging to a male, with expressed coding for dark skin. Most likely, it belonged to the crewmen who had brought her packs down here.

The other set, the newest one, was male as well, with markers indicating that he was of "Caucasian" descent. The scanner flagged a series of oddities that caught Daria's attention.

Daria had seen only six Caucasian males on the ship- Ishmael, Quatermain, Sawyer, Skinner, Gray, and Jekyll. She discarded Jekyll immediately- he'd only been onboard for about forty-five minutes. Quatermain and Sawyer were removed from the mental list as well- they had had no opportunity to break in, since they had been busy on the streets of Paris and within her vicinity since she had last been in her rooms. Ishmael, on the other hand, never left Nemo's side.

That left Skinner- the obvious suspect for a break-in- and Gray, both of whom were likely to have irregular gene sequences. In addition, neither of them had been on the hunt for Hyde.

Daria put the scanner away and set about putting her things back in order. To be quite honest, she trusted the invisible Skinner far more than she did the suave Gray. She had been an undercover agent for the Tau'ka for nearly fifteen years now, and you didn't last long as a spy for anybody if you didn't develop a sense for who was hiding something. Gray was hiding something other than just the secret of his apparent immortality, she could tell. He was too cool and collected, making her think that she could trust him about as far as she could throw him. Her recent experiences with people who weren't what they seemed meant she was unusually alert for further instances of such betrayal. Skinner, on the other hand, was mischievous and more than a bit crude, but at least he was honest about it. No, she was convinced it wasn't Skinner.

She paused in her tidying as a faint but truly awful smell drifted past her nose- a vile cross between rotten eggs and ammonia. Not only was it malodorous, it was getting stronger.

"SKINNER!!" Mina's voice screamed from down the hall.

"SKINNER!!!" That trio of bellows was Quatermain, Sawyer, and Gray. Daria stuck her head out the door and gagged as footsteps pounded down the hall past her rooms. Skinner, invisible except for where sooty grime outlined his facial features, darted by, clearly the source of the stench. Mina and the three men were chasing after him.

The _Nautilus_ lurched as it ascended back towards the surface- the smell must have made it up to wherever Nemo was.

Jekyll, dressed in fresh clothes, peered out into the corridor. "What was that?" he asked, nose wrinkled.

"I believe Skinner is experimenting with the wonders of modern chemistry." Daria replied. "I vote we go up top and get some fresh air."


	7. Guns, Gryphons, and Gray

AN: Hello again, my freaky darlings! Continued thanks for your reviews. I must let you know, posts may be a little bit erratic from now on, as school starts tomorrow. I will keep working on this, and it is my intent to be able to post on Tuesdays. You may throw rotten fruit at me if I miss an update.

_Zai'hwetha_, my freaky darlings!

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Chapter Seven: Guns, Gryphons, and Gray

The _Nautilus_

The League- or most of it- gathered in the conning tower of the _Nautilus_ as it cruised the surface of the Atlantic Ocean, just off the coast of Portugal. A salt-scented breeze blew, delightfully refreshing when taken with the bright sunlight.

"This is a whole lot different than riding a paddle-boat," Tom Sawyer said conversationally.

Quatermain sat behind him, cleaning his big elephant gun in silence. Sawyer, fascinated, turned around to watch.

"So, you named your gun, Mr. Quatermain?" he asked in an attempt to make conversation.

"Matilda."

"Who's Matilda?" the young American asked eagerly. "Somebody special?"

"My gun."

Sawyer swore he heard a soft chuckling, but no one was around to have made it. The sound was an odd one- it seemed like it had gone straight to his brain while bypassing his ears entirely.

_You walked right into that one, pup_.

Sawyer looked around for the soft voice with its distinctly feminine overtones, but saw no one who could have made it.

_Right into it, with eyes WIDE open._ The "words" were accompanied by a mental image of himself, eyes wide and with an idiotic grin on his face, walking straight into a pit trap.

"Who's there?" Sawyer asked sharply.

"What's that?" Quatermain asked, looking up from Matilda.

"I could have sworn I heard someone talking to me…" the young American trailed off as Quatermain smiled.

"Look up for your culprit," he said.

Sawyer heard a birdlike chittering noise from above him and looked up. Perched on the very top of the conning tower was a bronze-colored, half-avian creature with leonine hindquarters and black markings. It- or rather, she- clung to the hull with four sets of sharp talons. One labradorite-colored eye winked at him, and then she leapt down to the surface of the deck and landed with a thud.

"Did I fail to inforrm you of my ability to communicate mind-to-mind, Sssawyerr?" Daria somehow managed to force the human speech from her large hooked beak. It was intelligible, but marked by hissed sibilants and slightly growled r's.

"Uh, yes Ma'am," Sawyer said. He hadn't gotten a very close look at her last night when she'd taken the form of a large bronze-feathered gryfalcon, but now he realized just how _big_ her chosen shape was. Standing on all fours, her head was easily on a level with his own, and her falcon-like beak was a good nine inches long- plenty long enough to decapitate a human. Her talons –nearly as long as Sawyer's fingers- would be nothing to mess with either. It was a testament to her skill and reflexes that Hyde had managed to avoid being sliced the night before. Black tipped the feathers of her ear and tail, and her ear-tufts were of the same color, while metallic bronze with hints of gold glistened in her black-barred crest, and the last eighteen inches or so of each of the great wing primaries were black as well.

Daria dipped her head in acknowledgement. "How rrrude of me to do sso. My apologiesss." she said, her beak open in a grin. "Now you arrre informed. Ssstand back."

Sawyer complied as Daria spread her long pointed wings and leapt off the side of the _Nautilus_ into full flight, pulling up well away from the surface of the water. The young agent glared after her. "I'm not a pup." he muttered rebelliously.

_All right then, kid,_ came the playful response.

"Ya just can't win with some people…" He turned away and spotted Mina further down the deck. He watched her surreptitiously.

"She's out of your league." Quatermain commented, noting Sawyer's object of interest.

The young agent smiled with more than a hint of good-natured American cockiness. "Fortune rewards the bold, Mr. Quatermain," he said cheerfully. He stepped toward the graceful vampires with his disarming grin firmly in place.

"If you require help during the voyage, Mrs. Harker, just let me know," he told her as he opened the hatch for her.

Mina, aloof as ever, let him work at the heavy contraption. "Help? I'm curious as to how you think you could assist me, Agent Sawyer."

Sawyer struggled with the wheel, still grinning. "Oh, heavy lifting. Light banter. Whatever you need. I'm a useful kind of guy."

She studied him coolly as he finally managed to haul open the hatch. "You're sweet. And you're young. Neither of which are traits that I hold in high regard."

Sawyer, to his credit, maintained a straight face as Mina descended into the interior of the submarine ship. "Well, you're sure to the point, Ma'am. I'll give you that."

Gray followed a moment later with a smug smirk so refined that one would have to be an immortal to have cultivated it, clearly enjoying a moment of enjoyment at the agent's personal expense.

Nemo approached those who remained on the conning tower. "The solar panels are fully charged." he announced. "We'll be diving in a moment. Please come back inside."

"Ah, good," Sawyer said, trying to clamp down on his humiliation.

There was a rush of wings and a thud as Sawyer followed Gray into the confines below. Daria shook out her wings and folded them neatly, looking at the hatch with a certain amount of distaste as she shifted back.

"Do you dislike confined spaces, Miss Noclaf?" asked a timid voice behind her. The Tau'ka turned to see the nervous Henry Jekyll standing there, fiddling with a pocket watch he carried in one hand.

She nodded. "I tend to be a bit uncomfortable in them," she replied honestly. "It's funny, really, considering that my own ship has less elbow room than the _Nautilus_ and that my people construct underground bases. I'm really an Air-oriented person, to tell the truth- not fond of water or being enclosed."

Jekyll looked thoughtful. "Is that why you take the shape of that…uh…"

"Gryphon- technically a gryfalcon," Daria supplied, hauling open the hatch to let Jekyll go in first. It took a few seconds of forceful mimed communication for the doctor to get the point. "Among my people, shapeshifters tend to only take on one or two shapes with any regularity. Those forms are called 'shapes of inclination' and they are directly related to the personality of the shifter."

"So as an 'Air' person, you take a form that lets you be in that element?" Jekyll asked dubiously.

Daria noted his unease. "Don't be offended if this all seems to have a pagan bent." she said. "My people never got Christianity. Anyway, your conclusion is correct. Gryphons- and by extension gryfalcons- are primarily Air creatures, with a good deal of Fire and Earth mixed in for good measure. I've been told that I have a rather dominant sort of personality-"

"You got that right, love," Skinner's disembodied voice floated out of nowhere.

"- and you can't get a creature much more dominant than an aerial predator, now can you?" she continued, ignoring the thief.

Jekyll seemed to have put his theological issue aside for the moment. "So, where do these 'Fire' and 'Earth' aspects come in?"

"We maintain the tradition of connecting Earth to stability, and Fire to protection and combat."

"Fire 'as other connotations as well," Skinner put in, a hint of amorous mischief in his voice. Daria glared at him, blushing slightly. She glanced at Jekyll out of the corner of her eye. The nervous man seemed to have not understood Skinner's reference, although she knew exactly what he was referring to.

She paused suddenly. She thought she had heard something- not a physical sound, but one on a telepathic 'frequency' that she rarely listened on. It was 'lower-pitched' than most mind-voices she was accustomed to, nearly at the lowest range of her psychic hearing.

-_n't trusts her, Henry. She doesn't smell rig-_

"Shut up," Jekyll murmured quietly. His voice was low enough that Skinner wouldn't have heard him, but a Tau'ka's ears were far sharper than any human's.

-_enry, don't do it-_

"Shut up!" Jekyll hissed again. Daria frowned. Evidently, whatever she was hearing, so was he. That was odd.

Jekyll looked up at her. "M-my apologies, Miss Noclaf," he stammered, "I have to go." He turned and fled down into the corridor, leaving Daria standing alone and confused at the base of the ladder.

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Gray padded quietly down the hall towards the engine room, observing the intricate details of the ship closely. The _Nautilus _was a beautiful craft, but its flowing, Hindu decorations were not really to the aristocrat's taste. He passed the area reserved for crew quarters and found himself in a lightly less elegant area, with fewer frills. This was one of the corridors that led to the engine compartments

Gray paused at a door and tested the handle. It was unlocked, and swung silently open when he pushed on it. Inside were arrays of pipes and conduits, all dimly lit. He reached for the black bag he carried at his side.

"Lost, Gray?"

The immortal jumped in surprise and looked towards the cool voice. Its owner was half-hidden in the shadows, but easy to identify nonetheless.

"What are you doing here, Miss Noclaf?" he wanted to know.

"Skinner took something of mine," the Tau'ka said calmly. "I was looking for him. The same questioned could be asked of you."

"I took a wrong turn."

Daria raised an eyebrow, apparently not convinced, but didn't challenge the statement. "Guest quarters are down the hall. Take the first left and then the fourth right." She strode over to the door and held it open. "Skinner isn't here, so after you."

"What were you doing in the dark?"

The Tau'ka paused. "It's easier to hear things when your eyes aren't getting in the way. You ask a lot of questions, Gray."

Gray arched an elegant eyebrow of his own. "Just… curious, Miss Noclaf."

She waited until he left before moving. As Gray disappeared around the corner, Daria pulled the door shut behind her. With a gesture, she triggered the lock on the door and returned to her own room.

_Lost, my foot…_


	8. Recapping the Past

**AN**, 9/11/07: My friends, disaster has been narrowly deserted. I apparently misplaced my thumb drive at school on Friday. I did not notice this until Monday evening. I tore my bedroom apart looking for my drive, because it is the only place where I have all of my LXG fanfiction in digital form. Losing it would be a disaster, for me, my poor hands (ECD alone is forty chapters long and 112 pages in size 12 Times New Roman font while using Word- I did _not_ want to retype it, especially since my source material is now in the hands of a friend who lives eight hours and two ferry trips away), and for you readers. I spent half the night fretting over whether I'd be able to find my drive. The other half was spent in a dream where I got to interview Mercedes Lackey. That woman is utterly brilliant.

But I digress. I headed off to school this morning fearing that I would have to laboriously re-type every chapter of my fanfiction, a process that took well over a year now the first time around. Thankfully, I decided to check in at the office Lost and Found.

Success! Someone (my new favorite person in the world- if you're reading this, I thank you on bended knee. Actually, this morning I would have been kowtowing) had located my thumb drive and turned it in. I reclaimed it and joy of all joys, all my files were still intact. In honor of this averted disaster, I provide you with not one, not two, but _three_ chapters.

Thanks to all my readers. You rock my world.

_Zai'hwetha_,

Obi's Second Cousin

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Chapter Eight: Recapping the Past

The _Nautilus_

Dinner that night was very nearly a disaster. Everyone- except for Sawyer, Quatermain, and Nemo, chose to eat in their cabins, poring over blueprints of Venice and files of newspaper clippings.

Daria spent most of her evening in an irritated mood as she attempted to cobble together some sort of a power converter so she could tap into the _Nautilus's_ energy supply- she had several small, powerful computers that wouldn't last much longer on batteries. However, the comparatively primitive technology she had access to was proving unwilling to cooperate.

"_Mai'tac_," she swore as her makeshift contraption sparked. "_Mai'tac gotak _piece of _gonach_…"

She shoved it aside angrily and grabbed a datapad. Switching it on, she perused a page of the report she had been drafting. It had nothing to do with the League, but everything to do with why she had been on Earth.

Daria had been sent to this planet nearly a year ago, in order to investigate something the Tau'ka High Council had found disturbing- accounts of crime and discord on the rise. Much of the trouble could be attributed to the attacks engineered by the Fantom that she was now helping to track, but not all of it.

A report had come in about someone called Professor Moriarty, the "Napoleon of Crime". The message had indicated that Moriarty had been seen with two men- a pair of twins with dark hair, unusual powers, and piercing green eyes that literally glittered like peridots. Now, if the only odd thing about these two men had been their powers, the Tau'ka governing body would not have been concerned and would have let matters take care of themselves. That would have been typical, as Daria's people had a tendency to believe that they were superior to humans. Even she had been known to fall prey to that trait once in a while, and she was one of the most open-minded Tau'ka there was. What had caught the informant's attention were the gemlike eyes of the twins. Eyes with light-reflecting specks in the irises were a Tau'ka trait- a marker that Hecate had engineered her creations with in order to identify them as 'not natural'.

On top of that, there were very few twins among the Tau'ka With that factoring into the equation with the physical descriptions and the fact that the two had been seen in the company of a well-known criminal mastermind, there was only one possible conclusion: The renegade Tau'ka in question were K'wah and Koor, the Black Hawk brothers. They were a pair of dissidents who took their belief of Tau'ka superiority to a radical, militant extreme. They were the leaders of a faction dedicated to wiping out or otherwise causing the downfall of the human species.

Daria had been sent to uncover their plans and try to stop them, if possible. A setback had occurred a few months ago when Moriarty had fought with his sworn enemy, a famous detective called Holmes, and both had fallen over a waterfall to their (presumed) deaths. The Black Hawks had evaded her pursuit since, and Daria had planned to call it quits. She had been in the process of doing so when Sanderson Reed had appeared at the household she was pretending to oversee as part of her masquerade. M's man had been remarkably direct in saying that he knew all about who Daria actually was, claiming that the Council had contacted his employer and suggested Daria as a potential member of a group that would wipe out the mysterious "Fantom" that appeared bent on causing a world war. Since she had heard a rumor about a peridot-eyed man at the scene of one of the Fantom's attacks, Daria had gone along with Reed, although not without reservations.

However, she had seen no trace of the Black Hawks in any of her investigations since joining the League, and as a result, her temper was growing dangerously short.

A thought flashed through her mind. Weapons practice was always a pastime that she enjoyed, and Captain Nemo had proved himself to be an able swordsman.

_And he might be able to help me cobble together a converter…_


	9. Duel and Treachery

AN: The second part of my triple post bonanza. Enjoy.

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Chapter Nine: Duel and Treachery

The _Nautilus_

The clash of metal upon metal rang throughout the confines of the _Nautilus_. Two figures, one blue and white, the other shades of brown and sage-green, danced around each other in grim determination, looking for the other's weaknesses. Light flashed sliver from their weapons…

A black-booted foot whipped out, snaking around the other's legs.

Daria crashed to the floor, rolling away quickly to avoid the captain's sword point and coming to her feet. She brought up her own blade just in time to parry Nemo's next attack. The Indian man moved forward steadily, driving Daria back towards the door.

Dorian Gray peered into the room that seemed to be the source of the noise. "My God, it sounds like a war is going on in here-" he said.

Daria spun to face the intruder, one hand flinging out to call a halt to the duel. Nemo's blade didn't stop in time- it whistled through the air, leaving a bright red line across the alien's palm. She hissed and spun back, making a flicking gesture with her unwounded hand. Both swords leaped out of their owners' hands and clattered to the floor.

"Oh, dear," Gray said in alarm. "I'm dreadfully sorry about barging in like that. Here," He pulled out a linen handkerchief and passed it to Daria. She nodded a stiff thanks and pressed the cloth to the cut.

"Not entirely your fault, Gray," she said. "I let my guard down, and the captain here took it into his head to remind me to pay attention." Daria bowed politely to Nemo as he reclaimed his sword. The dark-eyed seaman nodded in response.

"What were you two doing?" Gray inquired, a bit suspiciously. It was clear that he didn't really trust the alien woman. "It looked like you were trying to kill each other."

"I witnessed Miss Noclaf's skills the other evening." Nemo said in his deep voice. "She was giving me a more thorough demonstration of her talents."

Daria handed the handkerchief back to Gray, flexing her hand. The wound, though still open, had ceased to bleed. Gray frowned.

"Pardon me for asking, Miss Noclaf, but do you have some sort of bleeding disorder?" the immortal inquired. "That didn't take very long."

She shook her head. "No." she replied shortly. "Tau'ka heal much faster than humans. It'll be fine in an hour or two. And Captain," she added, glancing back at Nemo, "I believe I asked you to call me Daria."

"Very well then," Nemo said. "A well fought match."

"But until pretty-boy here walked in, I was winning," she replied with an impish smile.

"As I recall, _Daria_, you clearly were not."

Gray left in disgust, tucking the bloodstained kerchief into his jacket pocket as Daria laughed.

Nemo raised his blade in a salute that doubled as an invitation to further combat, but was distracted by the noise of the message-ticker on the wall. He tore off the protruding strip of processed kelp paper and surveyed it, frowning.

"What is it, Nemo?" Daria inquired.

"Sabotage." he replied shortly. With long, authoritative strides, he strode out of the room, the Tau'ka at his heels.


	10. The Tour

AN: The third update.

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Chapter Ten: The Tour

The Bridge of the _Nautilus_

"That's not 'ow I left them, Cap'n. S'all I'm saying," First Mate Ishmael said as he and Nemo examined the controls and dials up on the bridge.

Nemo glanced down at the deck as his companion spoke, then he silently knelt down to look at something there.

"You think it might be sabotage?" Ishmael asked. "We ain't that far off course- I caught it in time." He frowned uncertainly, with a glance at the quiet Daria. "Still," he added in a lower tone, "there's too many strangers aboard this boat if you ask me."

"You apprehension is quite understandable, Mr. Ishmael," Daria said calmly.

"Pleas do not refer to my Lady as a mere 'boat', Ishmael."

Nemo brushed at a powdery residue he found on the floor with his fingertips, than sniffed them cautiously. "I don't recognize the smell," he said. "Perhaps Mrs. Harker will be able to-"

He paused, sensing a faint stirring somewhere in the control room. "Mr. Skinner? Are you here skulking about?"

Daria cast her gaze around the control room herself. "I don't detect anything, Captain," she said quietly. 'Not now, anyway."

A loud gunshot from outside startled them all. Daria and Nemo both stuck their heads out into the hall, preparing to demand just _what_ was going on when Sawyer ran up to the ladder that lead to the conning tower, grinning from ear to ear.

"He said he wouldn't start without me!" he said brightly as another shot rang out from above them.

Daria made a face. "If he's going to be shooting things, then I'd best stay inside."

Nemo noted her grimace. "In that case, would you care for a tour?" When she nodded, he directed Ishmael to give Mina the sample of powder and led the way out the door on the way to the engine room, explaining the various features of the _Nautilus _as they went. He had to stop every once in a while to define a technical term, but was pleased to find that Daria understood the basic principals of the ship with very little prompting.

They paused a moment so she could study a large, many-armed Indian statue. "Kali," Nemo explained. "Goddess of—"

"Death and destruction so that creation can take place," Daria interrupted. "I know about her." She decided not to risk offending her host by commenting that, for a Goa'uld, Kali wasn't half bad. She usually didn't go in for the extensive torture of captives, for one thing.

Nemo raised a quizzical eyebrow. "You seem to know much about the ancient gods," he commented. When she didn't respond, he merely bowed to the statue and walked on. Daria also offered the idol a respectful nod and followed the captain.

Though Nemo was usually the quiet, mysterious type, he reminded Daria of a proud youngster showing off a beloved toy as he described the functions on the various pieces of equipment in the engine room, displaying an enthusiasm she had rarely seen in anybody. He chattered for more than an hour before a crewman came up and spoke to him in Hindi. Nemo nodded in response to the crewman before turning back to Daria. "It appears that my attention is needed elsewhere."

She bowed slightly. "Thank you for the tour," she said politely. "The _Nautilus_ is a lovely vessel indeed, and I appreciate you bringing me down here."


	11. A History of the Tau'ka

AN: Heyla, all! It's Tuesday, my day for posting! Thanks to my reviewers for doing their thing!

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Chapter Eleven: History of the Tau'ka

The _Nautilus_

Henry Jekyll paused in his pacing of the corridor, a bundle of heavy, dark green cloth in his hand. Mina's door was open, allowing the sharp scent of chemicals and the soft sound of two voices drift into the hallway.

The voices belonged to Mina and Gray. Jekyll listened as Gray spoke about an enchanted painting that he owned, one that apparently took Gray's years upon the subject. That was the secret of his immortality, it seemed. Then their conversation turned to other matters, with Gray offering Mina a drink. A moment later, there came the tinkle of breaking glass and Gray's murmur of "We wouldn't want blood everywhere."

The mousy doctor was close enough that his shadow just brushed the edge of the threshold. He cringed and backed away.

_Yes, Henry. Look, but don't touch. Don't risk anything. Don't get your fingers dirty. That's your way._

Jekyll tried to escape the mocking voice of Hyde as he hurried away, but the brute's reflection leered out at him every time he passed a shiny surface. In the pristine interior of the _Nautilus_, there were, unfortunately a great number of them.

"Shut your mouth," Jekyll said softly.

_Did I just hear a mouse squeak?_ Hyde taunted, _Or was it just a worm stirring? Certainly nothing of any consequence._

"I won't be tricked again."

_Tricked? You've known what I was about each time you drank the formula_._ I know about it, Henry. I know you._ Hyde chuckled. _You like it._

"Liar! I'm a good man, a good man!

_Well, who's lying now? Repeat it to yourself, keep saying the same thing… but it still won't be true._

"I make my own decisions," Jekyll snapped angrily.

_So make your decision. You know which one I mean. You want it, Henry. Even more than you want …her_.

Jekyll trembled, his fists clenching on the bundle of cloth he carried. The soft, green cloak he carried.

_Oh, it's not THAT one you want, is it? You want the warrior? She barely even looks at you!_

"Be quiet!"

_You can't trust that one, Henry. She isn't what she seems. I can handle her. Drink the elixir._

"No."

_Either of them would want a big, strong, decisive man anyway. Not a little weakling,_ Hyde taunted.

"Be quiet!" Jekyll repeated, trying to sound more forceful than he felt.

_She looked at me!_

Hyde suddenly appeared in front of the doctor's eyes, looking like some hellish demon. Looming large, he grabbed at Jekyll's throat with a powerful, thick-fingered hand. The monster's eyes blazed bloodshot and yellow…

"Hyde!" barked a sharp voice. "Do the world a favor, and shut up!"

Jekyll spun with a yelp as the apparition vanished. He staggered, and a firm hand caught him around the shoulders.

"Are you all right, Doctor?"

He looked up, meeting a pair of concerned gray-green eyes. Daria helped him back to his feet and stepped back.

"I'm… in c-control," he stammered. He quickly scooped up the cloak he had dropped. "I was just b-bringing this back to you, Miss Noclaf," Hurriedly, Jekyll passed the garment back to its owner. She accepted it with a frown as he turned to leave.

"So, what's his problem?" she asked, jerking her head towards the nearest shiny surface, where Hyde's reflection glared balefully out at them both.

Jekyll wiped a clammy hand through his sweat-dampened coppery hair. "N-nothing."

She raised an eyebrow. "Sure didn't sound like 'nothing', Jekyll. He was being quite loud. And for the record," she added with a wry smile, "you can trust me."

Jekyll stared at her in bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"

Daria tapped the side of her skull with a fingertip. "I'm a—"

_-Liar. _

"I thought I told you to shut up?" Daria glared at Hyde's reflection. "I can hear you, you know."

Both Hyde and Jekyll stared at the woman as she declared this little fact.

"How do you do that?" Jekyll asked, terrified and amazed in spite of himself.

She tapped her skull again. "I'm a communications telepath."

"A… what?" Jekyll asked. Daria smiled.

"Let's not block up the corridor," she said, gesturing into her assigned cabin. "Please, come in,"

"I, uh, Miss Noclaf, that's hardly p-proper…" Jekyll stammered, cursing at himself for doing so.

The eyebrow went back up. "To Sokarr with proper. And I believe I've told you, it's just Daria. I prefer not to stand on ceremony." She waved him inside.

The fidgety doctor plucked up what little courage he had and entered. Daria's quarters didn't have a great deal of equipment in them. A couple small, metal contrivances cluttered the shelves, and the porthole was tightly covered. A half-dozen or so books, some written in languages he didn't recognize, were scattered around, as well as a couple packs of personal gear. Her sheathed fighting-sword lay propped up in a corner.

"Would you like something to drink?" Daria asked. "I can get tea, or coffee, or…" she trailed off with an expression that was between confusion and sheepishness. "What do you English people drink?"

_Something very hard._

She was hard pressed to hide a chuckle at Hyde's comment. "Only if the good doctor wants one."

Jekyll reddened. "Tea is fine, Miss-"

"Daria."

"Daria." he repeated. "Then please, call me Henry." She nodded, and vanished into the other room to prepare the drinks.

"As I was saying," she said when she returned, pressing a mug of tea into his hands, "I'm a communications telepath. It means I can speak to other people with my mind, and hear the mind-voices of others."

Jekyll's eyes widened. "Y-you hear what people are thinking?" he asked nervously. She shook her head, taking a sip from the second mug she'd brought out with her.

"No, not thoughts. Mind-voices are just like speaking voices, but they come directly from the brain. Not everyone has a mind-voice, but I believe that is what Hyde uses to speak to you on a regular basis."

"So you mean I'm a communications-"

Daria shook her head firmly. "I rather doubt it. You speak aloud to talk with Hyde, correct?"

_Yes, the little-_

"Can it, Hyde. Anyway, no, I don't think you are a com-path. At the very least, you aren't one with any significant aptitude for it." They sat in nervous silence for several moments. To Jekyll's relief, Hyde seemed to have found Daria's ability to hear him as a bit of a shock and didn't say anything. He set his teacup down, willing it to remain steady as his hand trembled.

"Would you j-join me for dinner tonight, Daria?" Jekyll stammered nervously, startled at his own boldness. She blinked in surprise.

"I mean, uh, that is, if you didn't have anything else to do…" he added quickly, praying that he hadn't offended her. He was oddly attracted to this odd woman, who didn't seem to be afraid of him or what he could become. But at this point, offering insult would be disastrous.

To Jekyll's profound relief, she nodded, eyes bright. "I'd be delighted." she said with a broad smile.

Daria was quite fond of the skittish doctor, and had realized that her fondness could, if encouraged and reciprocated, grow into something a bit more…interesting than fondness. As a result, her stomach had done an odd bit of a flip-flop when Jekyll had made his request, and she was pleased when the look of panic left his eyes when she had agreed.

They chatted about random topics- speculations about the Fantom's operations, the weather, Sawyer's latest harebrained stunt- and slowly began to relax in one another's company. Daria took to studying her companion through her eyelashes when she took sips of her tea. In her book, Jekyll was fairly good-looking, and as a bonus, he was the perfect height, being about three inches taller than she was.

"How did you come about that particular talent, Daria? That and your shapeshifting?" Jekyll asked. Daria frowned at him. To the doctor's relief, it wasn't an irritated expression, merely one that indicated a bit of confusion.

"No one told you about me?" she asked. "Strange, I thought for sure that that blabbermouth of a thief Skinner would have said something…" She shook her head dismissively. "Never mind. Anyway, I can hear mind-voices and change form because I'm, well…" Daria ducked her head slightly, as if uncomfortable revealing the information.

"You're what?"

She grimaced. "Henry, I'm not human."

Daria searched his face for any expression as Hyde loudly proclaimed that he had known it all along, that there was something not right about her.

A note of surprise played across his face. He swallowed hard. "Then what are you?" Jekyll asked, nerves turning his voice cold.

_Just when we were getting on so well, _Daria thought as she hid another grimace. Her stomach knotted painfully- she knew what came next. _Figures, doesn't it? Can't fall for the extraterrestrial alien, can we? This always happens. At least the others didn't freak out when I told them. Of course, next to a vampire, a Tau'ka is really not that spectacular._ She steeled herself and began to speak.

"I relate unto you the first history of the Tau'ka, as it was told to me and my predecessors," she began, utilizing the formal mode of storytelling her people had adopted long ago. "Ten thousand years ago, an alien being, near death, came to Earth. He was a Goa'uld, one of the last of his parasitical species. He discovered a primitive race on Earth, and learned that their bodies were easy to repair. He took over a human's body and made it his host. Controlling that boy, the Goa'uld solidified his rule, stylizing himself as a god. He called himself Ra, the Sun-God."

Jekyll gave a start. "The Egyptian Sun-God?" he asked, bluish-gray eyes widening in surprise.

Daria nodded. "Yes. Other Goa'uld followed him. They styled themselves as the gods of the ancient cultures as well- Hathor, Seth, Baal, Yu, Herour, Apophis, Chronos… Several hundred laid claim to Earth and its native populace. These highest-ranking Goa'uld brought humans to colonize other worlds through a device called the Stargate, which is a sort of portal that can provide instantaneous transport between planets. The humans were used as slaves and laborers, and some of the finest examples were taken as hosts for their Goa'uld overlords. Such rule went on for many centuries, until the humans of Earth, the Tau'ri, staged a revolt and buried the Stargate. The Goa'uld abandoned the planet, and little is known of the homeworld of the human race, although the Goa'uld still rule over populations of transplanted humans."

Her companion just stared at her, blue-gray eyes wide, trying to get his imagination around the concept of alien gods and other planets.

"Are you one of the…" he began.

"_No!_" Daria said forcefully, trying to keep the sharpness that was a Tau'ka's usual reaction to such a question out of her voice. "I am not one of the Goa'uld. I am coming to that. Now, there was one System Lord who was not satisfied with her human subjects, who was called Hecate. She wanted stronger beings to serve her, and to fight for her. To this end, she modified the basic genetic coding of a small group of unwilling victims. She made them stronger and faster than true humans, desiring them to serve as warriors in her armies. Her changed humans were longer lived, quicker-healing, and possessed sharper senses and reflexes than the ones who served other Goa'uld. Hecate also granted her creations special abilities- telekinesis, the ability to see the future, or speak without saying a word. Some could call fire, or change shape. One could even transport himself instantaneously to any place he had seen. But what Hecate did not intend to give her creations was powerful intellect, intending instead to rule over a created race that would be unstoppable and blindly obedient to her.

"But the great intelligence did appear in her creations, and they eventually turned upon their creator. Hecate was slain by the beings she had made, by her Tau'ka.

"To this day, the Tau'ka continue to fight against the Goa'uld, for we all despise them and their rule. Many also look down upon the human race, for the Tau'ka were originally created to be an improvement over them. A shame, this is, for Tau'ka do not reproduce quickly or often, and our race has been forced to interbreed with the so-called 'lesser humans' in order to continue. As a race, we are strong, if not many."

Daria bowed her head slightly. "I am Daria Noclaf, eldest daughter of Nevar Halcon and Koa Noclaf, one of the last surviving pure-blooded Tau'ka families. I am spy and warrior for my people, kinetic, telepath, and shapeshifter." she finished, raising her head again to look at Jekyll. Such an in-depth self-introduction was the traditional closing to the oral relation of a History.

Silence met her finished speech. Jekyll was very pale. He stood, and left the room without saying a word.

Daria watched him go, a leaden feeling of rejection settling in her belly. A cold fist seemed to close around her aching heart. With a savage gesture, she knocked both of the empty teacups to the floor, where they shattered.

The cloak lay folded neatly on an empty chair.


	12. Vials and Accusations

AN: I am in a very good mood. My last chapter has gone over great, I got good reviews (Cheers to **Starry Eyed Fool, Skunk and Hedgehog, Master of the Boot, and sylence **for the comments!), and I just found out that I got a 98 on my last AP European History exam and 100 on the accompanying essay packet. In addition, my calculus homework is_ finally_ starting to make sense. So what am I going to do? I'm going to post, that's what!

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Chapter Twelve: Vials and Accusations

The _Nautilus_

Jekyll returned to his quarters, mind reeling over Daria's stunning revelation. How could he have even considered being with her? She was more alien than Mina- Mina, at least, had started out human… His hands were getting sore from the number of times he had wrung them in his fit of nerves, and his ever-present pocketwatch was looking a bit battered.

Just as disturbing was the hurt look on the alien's face when he had left her rooms without saying a word. Doing so had been unbearably rude, but it was in his nature to run away when he was afraid (much as he was ashamed to admit yet another weakness), and Daria's nature had just been too shocking to be palatable. Jekyll had the uneasy sensation that she had been entertaining feelings for him as well, which made him feel even worse, if that was possible.

_Let me out, _Hyde begged in a whining voice. _Let me play, Henry. Come on, let me play._ Jekyll struggled to ignore that noxious little voice in the back of his mind, hoping that Daria wouldn't hear it and take it upon herself to come rescue him- again.

_I'll win,_ Hyde whispered. _ I always win._

He was sorely tempted, at this point.

_Why fight it? Enjoy me, Henry. Enjoy me…_

Jekyll glanced at the small medical case on his desk, torn between the desire to take a dose of the special elixir, and the need to stay in control. It vaguely crossed his mind that a certain alien lady wouldn't think highly of him for succumbing to Hyde's urgings.

_Why do you care what she thinks? _Hyde scoffed. _She lied to you, didn't she? She lied about what she is. She isn't human. Why should you care? Drink the elixir._

But Jekyll was no longer listening. Instead, he stared at the small black case in horror. The latch had been undone while he was away.

"If I didn't know better," he said slowly, "I'd swear I already had." He glanced down at his hands, expecting them to start changing before his eyes.

But they didn't. His hands remained his own- pale, slim-fingered, and rather clammy.

He looked into the case, and stared in surprise. Then he gingerly poked around among the vials and tiny glass bottles, half expecting the case to snap shut on his wrist.

Jekyll looked sharply at his cabin door, expecting to see someone there. The door was closed, and he was safe. But someone _had _been there.

One of the vials of his elixir was missing.

He burst into the _Nautilus's_ library in time to hear Nemo telling Quatermain, Daria, and Sawyer what he had just discovered- that the Fantom planned on using a set of stolen blueprints for the city of Venice and the knowledge of some kidnapped German architect in order to set off a bomb that would level the majestic Italian city and spark the world war he desired. The three men were looking grim at the revelation. Daria, on the other hand, looked rather the worse for wear, with reddened eyes and a haggard expression. She caught a glimpse of Jekyll standing in the doorway and turned away from him, squeezing her eyes shut.

"That isn't the sum of our problems," Jekyll said. Nervously, he ran a hand through his limp hair. "Skinner has taken a vial of my formula."

That got the group's attention. Tom Sawyer set his jaw. "I never trusted that invisible man."

"Are you sure it was him?" inquired the old hunter.

Jekyll's gaze darted around the room. Daria was still pointedly not looking at him. "Who else?" he said. His voice rose sharply, as if he'd caught a flicker of his alter ego's personality. "You've seen how the sneaky blackguard operates." He swallowed hard and fled back to his rooms.

Quatermain turned to Daria, with a frown. "What is your problem?" he asked sharply. "You've been staring at nothing for twenty minutes now."

She glared at him. "I don't think Skinner did it." she said, wiping her face dry.

"Then who?" Nemo asked.

"You?" Quatermain wanted to know.

Daria stood up. "You think I _what??_" she snarled.

"Did you take the vial of Jekyll's formula?"

She gaped at him, mouth working silently. Then her jaw clenched. "I have been frankly honest with you and the others, Alan Quatermain. I'm not here to spy on anyone in this league. And at the moment, I don't even want to _see_ Doctor Henry Jekyll, much less sneak into his rooms!" she spat with such acid venom that Quatermain wondered just what had happened between the two.

"Hey, he's just asking a question—" Sawyer said.

"You stay out of this, human!"

Nemo grabbed Daria by the shoulders to keep her from lunging at the other two, but fortunately they were interrupted by a unit on the wall chattering loudly, spitting out a ticker-tape message through a thin slot. Forcing Daria back into her seat, Nemo tore it off, scanning the text. "Mr. Skinner's crimes will have to wait for the time being, as well as any that Miss Noclaf may have committed. Duty calls- we have arrived at our destination."


	13. Carnival of Fear

AN: I was bored. Therefore, I decided to update. The great reviews are certainly encouraging.

_Zhai'helleva_, friends. Enjoy.

Chapter Thirteen: Carnival of Fear

_Venice, Italy_

_The Control room of the _Nautilus

_Night_

The League crowded into the submarine's control room, ready to begin their work as Ishmael drawled off orders in Hindi. As his crew guided the magnificent vessel, Captain Nemo peered through the periscope. Through its eyepiece, he caught glimpses of far-off revelers, celebratory torches, feasts, and flowers, all a part of Venice's grand Carnival. "The Carnival is quite the affair," he commented.

"I love a party," Gray put in. "Perhaps we should all join in. After all, Nemo's already wearing his own costume."

"I tend to avoid large gatherings and all that noise," the captain replied dryly.

Daria shifted impatiently as the _Nautilus_ edged forward, the stone walls closing in on either side. She was more than ready to be about her work. She needed to get out into open air- she felt as trapped by the vessel's armored hull and the water around it as she did by the walls outside that were closing in like a trap. And claustrophobia wasn't the only thing that drove here impatience to get out- neither she nor Jekyll had spoken to one another since the disastrous, impromptu get-together of the afternoon. The doctor's unease at being forced into close proximity with her was not lost on the Tau'ka.

"We can go no farther," Ishmael suddenly announced in English, before the _Nautilus_ could get stuck in the narrow confines.

"All ahead stop!" Nemo ordered.

"Reverse engines!" the first mate barked.

Slowly, the great ship ground to a halt just beneath a graceful bridge bedecked in vines and bunting.

Crewmen poured out of the ship, securing it in place as the League members disembarked. Daria was more impatient then ever- the upcoming hunt called to her, and she was more than ready to go.

Nemo was giving orders to a group of men dressed up in diving suits. "Break into squads and sweep the city."

"One flare per five-man team," Ishmael added.

"Look for any hint of the Fantom," Quatermain put in. "Signal at the first hint of suspicious activity."

"But this is a vast city of masks and mystery," Mina protested.

"Then you will be very much in your element." the hunter replied, signaling that she and the others should hurry along.

"What about Skinner?" Sawyer asked in a whisper, glancing behind him. No one had been able to locate the invisible man since Quatermain had dramatically chased him out of his quarters two days ago. Now that they were in Venice and ready to get started, Skinner had vanished without a trace.

Most of the group, including Sawyer, seemed convinced that the thief had intended to cause trouble the entire time. Daria, however, disagreed, but kept her disagreement to herself. If asked to point out the person most likely to cause trouble for the mission, she would have pointed her finger elsewhere.

"I bet he's working for the Fantom," Sawyer said.

"Just be alert for his treachery, young man," Gray replied with a distasteful curl of his lip. Daria narrowed her eyes at him as he continued. "We all will. He's still hereabouts, somewhere, probably spying on us all. No telling what sort of mischief he still has in mind."

"It's not Skinner I'm worried about," Daria murmured under her breath as the immortal turned away from her.

The discussion was interrupted by a sudden blaze of light and sound that filled the sky, sounds that were like cannons booming into the night. The racket echoed off of water, stone, and metal alike, rattling windowpanes and flowerpots as yet another brilliant flash.

Nemo's crewmen looked around and grabbed for their weapons. Most of the League members were horrified, but Sawyer and Daria just laughed.

"Aw, shucks," the American said with a grin. "It's just fireworks, the finale of the Carnival."

"Now, that's what I call a party," Daria added, feeling a little better.

It was true- under the roar and bang of the fireworks, they could distantly hear the revelers cheering.

"I feared the worst!" Mina said. "I thought we were too late, that the Fantom had already-"

"Don't worry, Ma'am," Sawyer reassured her. "We still have a chance."

The next explosion, Sawyer found, showed him just how tasty words for dinner were.

With a ripping crash, and incredible eruption rocked the ground. The League reeled, most of them staggering and clinging to one another for support. Mina maintained her balance with her characteristic feral grace, but Jekyll fell to his knees with the shock wave, clutching at the solid ground. Daria shifted her form to that of the bronze gryfalcon, talons digging into the road. Instinctively, she mantled, sheltering both Nemo and the cowering Jekyll beneath the expanse of her black-tipped wings. Two of Nemo's crewmen were thrown into the dark water of the canal.

Under the cover of Daria's wing, Jekyll covered his head. Inside him, even Edward Hyde was intimidated.


	14. Dominoes Anyone?

AN: Tuesdays are for posting. Today is Tuesday. I shall post. And since I'm happy because I got a 97.5 on my Calculus exam (I may just faint…), I shall post… twice!

Thanks for all the really lovely reviews for chapter 11- I was really worried. It was my first-ever major mush scene. My confidence has been buoyed. You guys rock.

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Chapter Fourteen: Dominoes, Anyone?

_Venice_

_Night_

"The Fantom didn't wait for us," Sawyer said. "Darn his itchy trigger finger."

Around them, Carnival-goers were panicking as their city fell.

Mina gazed up at the arch of the cracking bridge that overshadowed the _Nautilus_. "We're too late. What do we do now?" To her credit, she didn't sound panicked herself- she was simply getting down to the business of solving the problem.

Everyone looked at Quatermain, except for Daria- she had changed back and was trying to haul Jekyll to his feet. The doctor pulled away from her.

The old adventurer moved swiftly to a point where he could see the city. Staring forward, he could see the wave of destruction spreading from the epicenter of the plaza, buildings collapsing upon one another in deadly chain reaction.

"The buildings are falling like dominoes, Cap'n!" someone cried. "Bang, bang, bang! It's heading for the Calle Del Luna next!"

The metaphor brought a flash of inspiration to the old hunter. He spun to face the others. "Nemo! What sort of weapons does that ship of yours carry?" he demanded. "You must remove a domino!"

The dark captain's brow furrowed as his mind raced through possibilities and calculations, pausing only long enough to reach the same conclusion. "Yes! Get ahead of the collapse and destroy the next building." He considered for a moment more, thinking face. Then his lips narrowed in a grim, determined smile. "My _Nautilus_ can do it. I could launch a rocket."

"We'll interrupt the chain of destruction!" Sawyer jumped in. "That's it!" He spun suddenly and sprinted up the gangplank, disappearing into the ships hold.

Daria looked after the youngster curiously. "Does he actually have a plan or is he moving just to be doing something?" Quatermain had been wondering the same thing.

Gray just looked unimpressed, but Jekyll was rapidly approaching the point of flat-out panic. "What are you talking about, Nemo?" he demanded shrilly. "Quatermain, are you mad? It's too late to concoct a Plan B!"

"And you would know all about concocting things, wouldn't you, _Doctor_?" Daria muttered acidly.

Jekyll must not have heard the unhappy Tau'ka's biting remark, for he continued, glancing around like a terrified rabbit caught in the open with no sheltering hole in sight. "We should get back aboard the _Nautilus_ and escape. It's our only chance."

"And leave all these people?" Mina asked scornfully. "Rather an ineffective first mission for us, if we allow all of Venice to be destroyed."

"And allow a world-scale war to be triggered." Nemo added with a glare at the cringing Jekyll. "I refuse to simply surrender and flee." Jekyll flinched again, more afraid of the dark captain than of any explosion.

"Nemo's right- we can't just turn tail and _run._" Daria said. "I couldn't- not while we still have a chance of accomplishing something."

The conversation had all been in rapid-fire, taking up only a few seconds, but now Dorian Gray actually rolled his eyes, his flippant attitude at complete odds with the city collapsing around him. "Oh, yes, M would be _soooo_ disappointed in us. But what can we hop to achieve? This is more than any of us can imagine."

"Some of us have slightly more imagination than a teaspoon," Daria snapped.

"It is a time for swift action," Quatermain cut in. "No more conversation. I'm not a bloody politician."

"And _I'm _an immortal, not a gazelle." Gray retorted.

"I could become one," Daria muttered. "But I doubt if that would work. Even as a gryfalcon, I don't have anything that Nemo can use to track me with."

"So how can we outrun this devastation?" Gray asked rhetorically.

At that moment, the door of the _Nautilus_'s hold slammed open with a metallic bang. With its engine roaring, Nemo's six-wheeled car burst out and hurtled down the gangplank, pulled into a screeching skid, and fishtailed to a perfect halt into the walkway that led into Venice's streets.

The plucky Tom Sawyer poked his head out of the window, grinning from ear to ear behind the controls. "Care for a spin?"


	15. The Gang Splits Up

AN: Part 2!

Chapter Fifteen: The Gang Splits Up

Venice

Mina jumped into the back of the vehicle with an uncanny impression of a girl on a first date. "I'd love it!"

Quatermain gave Sawyer an approving smile as he took the seat next to him. "Good idea," he said. "Wish I'd thought of it.

Sawyer grinned broadly as Gray and Daria climbed in besides Mina. "I was watching y'all in the car back at the museum," he said, revving the engine. "Made up my mind then that I wanted to take 'er for a drive."

"Nice," Daria said. "Didn't know it was convertible."

The hunter glanced back to see that Jekyll hadn't gotten in with the rest. "Jekyll!" he called. "Hurry man! Get in!" But Jekyll was frozen in place like a terrified deer.

Nemo stepped up to the driver's compartment to speak to Quatermain. "I will need specific coordinates to launch my rocket. Our targeting must be absolutely precise, or we will cause more damage than we hope to prevent."

"Can you track this thing?" the hunter asked as Sawyer fiddled with the controls in his impatience to be off.

"Of course. I planned for all contingencies when I drew up my designs."

"Then launch when you see the flare. We'll lead you right to the bulls-eye."

The captain nodded and hurried back to the _Nautilus_. "Ishmael and I will make the preparations immediately."

Quatermain turned to Sawyer. "Full power!" he barked

The young American obligingly floored the gas- and the engine promptly died.

In the back seat, Gray let out a quiet snort of disbelief.

Daria raised an eyebrow. "You killed it." she said in exasperation. "It _died_." Sawyer reddened in embarrassment.

Two of Nemo's crewmen tried to push the stricken car forward, trying to get the engine to turn over. Sawyer struggled with the controls, and the car's engine coughed but refused to catch.

Quatermain realized that the last member of their team was not yet in the car as it finally roared to life. "Jekyll! What are you doing? Come on!"

"Jekyll, please!" Daria pleaded.

"No!" Jekyll cried vehemently. "I won't let Hyde use me again! I _won't_!"

Gray sneered. "But without him, my dear doctor, what use are you?" He let a taunting note color his voice. "Do you plan to apply iodine and bandages to our scrapes once we're finished?" Daria glared at the immortal, furious on the doctor's behalf at the underhanded comment.

"Just go," Quatermain ordered the American with disgust. "A damned inconvenient time for the man to have second thoughts about his purpose here."

Sawyer obligingly put the car into gear and they raced away, leaving Henry Jekyll alone with his fears and Skinner –literally- nowhere in sight.

Daria couldn't help watching as the figures of the doctor, captain, crewmen, and submersible recede into the distance, eyes downcast. Then, like any fighter preparing to go into battle, she pushed the image of Jekyll's terrified face- and her conflicted emotions about him- out of her mind. She listened as Sawyer, Quatermain, and Mina argued over which direction to go, with the vampire proclaiming that her firsthand experience with the city counted for more than Quatermain's map.

"Good thing we're all on the same team," Sawyer muttered, wrenching the steering wheel to the right in accordance with Mina's directions. Tires squealed as the car barely missed the center divider.

"Caution, boy!" Quatermain yelled.

A hail of bullets suddenly spanged off of the car's hood, causing Sawyer to force the car to a screeching halt.

Overhead, perched on the edge of a villa's roof, a sniper was sprinting away, a long rifle clutched in his grasp. Silhouettes of other marksmen appeared, materializing from behind statues in the streets and firing another hailstorm of bullets.

Gray looked uncharacteristically furious as he kicked open the door and leaped out. "Damn Skinner!" he snarled. "He must have told them we were coming." He whipped out his slim-bladed cane sword and launched himself into the fray as the air filled with more projectiles. Daria yelped and ducked down in her seat to protect her head. "Just go!" the immortal ordered.

"Dorian, it's no use—" Mina shouted.

"Just keep driving, lad!" Quatermain barked. Sawyer gunned the engine again and swerved until the car was partially shielded by an overhanging colonnade, smashing through a column and bouncing off a wall in the process. He whooped loudly as if he were actually enjoying the proceedings.

"_Mai'tac_, Sawyer!" Daria shouted as she bounced off of the side of the car. "This is not a bloody bumper car! Where in Sokarr did you get your driver's license?? Ouch!" She banged her head against the back of the seat and rubbed her abused forehead, swearing softly.

Quatermain tired to aim the modified Winchester that Sawyer had given him, but more stone columns broke any line of sight he thought he had. "I can't get a clear shot."

Sawyer eagerly whipped out a pair of pistols and stood up in the seat. "Then take the wheel!" The young agent began firing wildly as the unguided vehicle careened along the cobbled street. Quatermain snatched at the wheel.

"Sit down, you buffoon! I don't know how to drive this thing!" The car swerved, nearly out of control and still going at top speed.

"Save your bullets, both of you- these men are mine!" Mina snarled with vengeance in her voice. She sprang from the car, flew briefly through the air, and landed, spiderlike, on a nearby wall.

Sawyer sat back behind the wheel with a thump. "Did you see that?" he asked, looking even more enamored with the mysterious pale woman. "Did you see what she did?"

"Keep you eyes on the bloody road," Quatermain ordered gruffly. "We have our own part to do.

Daria laughed aloud. "Hey, Fangs!" she called. "Share the fun!"

The gyrfalcon burst into the air a moment later, swooping up and out of the narrow street with a stroke of her powerful wings and a piercing cry.


	16. Hunting in Venice

AN: And now, our regularly scheduled update…

Chapter Sixteen: Hunting in Venice

_Venice_

_Inside the _Nautilus

_Night_

A bustle of activity exploded in the _Nautilus's_ brightly lit rocket room as large mechanical complexes transferred one of the explosive projectiles to a firing tube. The crewmen did their work without panic, accustomed as they were to drills and previous adventures.

Nemo surveyed the proceedings as he barked orders to Ishmael. "Tune the tracer to the car's frequency. The rocket must be ready to fire as soon as we see their flare."

The first mate activated the tracer unit on the wall of the rocket room, adjusting it until a sequence of lights burned bright green. The device whirred as it plotted the car's position on a cylindrical roll of kelp paper. "There he is, Cap'n," he said as the ink trail on the paper wavered, recording Sawyer's twisting path through the streets of Venice.

A series of loud bangs and crashes distracted them as debris pelted the exterior of the white submarine. Over their heads, the bridge groaned, ready to fall at any moment.

"The buildings are coming down!" cried a panicking crewman. "We must be away!"

"No!" Nemo barked as he scrambled up into the crow's nest, a binocular instrument clutched in his hand. He peered through them to watch the city's sinking progress. "We will stay and do our job."

There was no sign of Quatermain's flare.

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Nemo's car screeched onto a wide street, leaving colonnade, tangled canals, and a path of destruction behind it.

"There, ahead," Quatermain said, gesturing out his side of the car for Sawyer's benefit. "It's a straight shot from there."

Above the speeding vehicle, a swarm of the Fantom's snipers rose ominously, rifles at the ready.

"A straight shot for them, maybe," the young agent retorted. "A gauntlet for us."

But the snipers weren't the only things above them. Two additional figures darted along the rooftops- the graceful liquid shadow that was Mina Harker and the long-winged silhouette that was Daria Noclaf. Quatermain pointed at them, nodding with unexpected admiration. "Not at all. The ladies have us covered."

Sawyer set his jaw in determination and zoomed the car forward into the deadly targeting zone. He and Quatermain entered the gauntlet as their companions attacked.

Mina and Daria took their victims completely by surprise amidst poorly aimed gunshots fired off in terror. The vampire woman pounced from man to man on her side of the street, slashing and ripping with deadly fangs. She went from being airborne one second to skittering to another sniper in the next. None in her path would be safe.

On the other side the street, Daria fought with the same deadly efficiency. She attacked in a series of stoops, diving from heights of fifty feet or more above the rooftops to strike unwary snipers. Granted, her method took a bit more time than the pounce-and-bite tactics of her counterpart, but she was no less effective. She skidded to a stop at the apex of one roof as Nemo's car flashed across the ground below her and considered her next target. The gryfalcon crouched, than leaped to the level below, pinning another sniper to the tiles. Her head snapped forward and sliced though the enemy's spine with deadly, merciless accuracy. Then Daria took to the air again, intent on keeping up with Mina's efforts on the other side if the street.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Quatermain held on for dear life as the six-wheeled car hurtled down the road. As they passed a narrow side street, the old hunter happened to glance down it- and saw something that made him start with surprise.

The Fantom was in Venice.

Several henchmen were escorting the masked villain towards a creaking dock, where an armored gunboat waited for him. The Fantom glanced around for a last glance at the destruction of the ancient city around him, then stepped onto the dock with a swirl of his black cape.

Quatermain set the flare gun down on the dashboard. "Remember the flare," he told Sawyer. He then snapped open the door of the racing car. "You know when to launch it. I'm counting on you."

"Wha-?" Sawyer said distractedly, taking his eyes off the obstacle course he was driving through.

"I can't protect you this time, boy. I'm off. This enemy's mine." With those words, he jumped from the car, taking the landing at a roll. Back on his feet again, he raced towards the dock where the Fantom waited.

Sawyer cursed and returned his gaze to the road. In seconds, Dorian Gray, Mina Harker, Daria Noclaf, and now Allan Quatermain had abandoned him to run off on their own adventures. He glanced briefly at the flare gun Quatermain had let with him and shook his head. "Heck, I wasn't even supposed to be a part of this group."

Now it was up to him.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

The gryfalcon flew back into the sky with powerful strokes of her long pointed wings. Above the rooftops, she had a clear view of the proceedings. From her lofty position, she watched Nemo's car as Sawyer sent it hurtling along a crumbling walkway and sent him a telepathic cheer as he escaped the collapse.

Mina had Sawyer covered as she raced across the rooftops, so the Tau'ka landed lightly on an empty expanse of tiles to wait.


	17. Flare Means Rocket

AN: And another chapter, because the first one was kind if short…

Chapter Seventeen: Flare Means Rocket

Venice

Quatermain sprinted at full speed; ignoring the collapsing buildings as they crumbled around him, mind focused on one thing: catch the Fantom.

He reached the boat and was on the mastermind's henchmen before they knew what was happening. Two blasts from the borrowed Winchester rifle took care of two of them, and he flung the weapon like a tomahawk at a third.The man dutifully looked up at the proper moment, so that the rifle's hard wooden stock cracked him right between the eyes. Before the Winchester had hit the ground, Quatermain had taken care of the two remaining lackeys with flying fists and retrieved the gun.

The Fantom froze at the end of the dock, realizing that he was now unprotected. The boat was too far away for him to jump, and the old hunter stood in his way.

"Stand down, sir," the Fantom said in a hard, but reasonable voice. "The die has been cast, and you can do nothing about it. We'll both be killed if we linger here."

He had a point- the buildings around them continued to sink at an alarming rate.

Quatermain kept an eye on his enemy as he calmly reloaded the Winchester. "You're destroying Venice. It's fitting that it should destroy you in turn." He waited there like an implacable guard dog, and no amount of "Here boy," and whistling would get him to move and allow the Fantom to board the waiting vessel.

"But you'll die too!" the Fantom cried, his voice holding a ragged hint of desperation.

"I've faced death before." Quatermain smiled grimly. "Perhaps it's my time."

Further conversation was hindered by the fact that the dock began to crumble underneath their feet, collapsing into the canal. The hunter stumbled, trying to catch his balance.

A figure appeared at the top of the stairs- a stocky, dark haired man. Light glinted off of his eyes, reflecting tiny green flashes. "Move it, Fantom!" the man snarled, haughty features cold. "We can always find another to work with!" With that, the mystery man turned on his heel and ran off.

The Fantom gave up his gunboat escape and ran after the green-eyed man, racing up the stairs like a pack of hounds was at his back.

Quatermain tucked the reloaded Winchester under his arm and set off in hot pursuit.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Sawyer drove desperately down the narrow street, pushing Nemo's car to its limits as he raced to get ahead of the sinking buildings that threatened to crush all in their path. Villas, museums, cathedrals, all fell victim to the collapse.

Carnival merrymakers in their garish costumes ran about in the streets, dodging out of the way. Unfortunately, with the buildings collapsing, they had no safe place to run to.

When Sawyer finally reached the Calle Del Luna, masonry chunks smashed either side of the car as he raced towards the final bridge. To make his day, the roadway dropped away ahead of him, as if some powerful prankster had opened up a trapdoor. Wide, ragged cracks raced to overtake the car's tires.

So he did the only thing that made sense to do.

He accelerated.

Across the expanse once spanned by the bridge stood an ancient, decrepit-looking theater. It had clearly been falling apart for years, but the oncoming collapse wouldn't help its state any.

Steering with his left hand, Sawyer snatched up the flare gun from where Quatermain had left it. When the car hit the suddenly uneven slope of the dropping road, the American pointed the pistol out of the window and fired the flare. It streaked into the sky like the rocket that would soon follow it, like a shooting star in reverse.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

From the crow's nest of the _Nautilus_, Nemo shaded his eyes and finally spotted the streaking flare. He snatched up the voice tube and shouted "Launch! They are in position!"

"Aye, Cap'n," Ishmael said. In a somewhat anticlimactic manner, he pushed the firing button.

A hatch cover in the top deck slid aside with a loud clang. The rocket hissed and spat as it shot through the now-open launch tube and soared away like a much larger version of the bright magnesium flare.

Homing in on the tracer.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Daria cheered as rocket hurtled down from the sky, right on target. She mentally reminded herself to congratulate young Sawyer on this operation. The Tau'ka turned and crouched, preparing to take off again.

But the rocket wasn't the only thing falling from the sky that night. Something large swooped out of the darkness above her. Before she could react, a set of talons raked along her back from shoulder to hip through the thick bronze feathers with enough force to send her crashing to the tiled rooftop with a pained cry that rang on both auditory and telepathic channels. Her head struck the tiles hard enough that she saw stars for the brief moment before the world went black.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Quatermain chased the Fantom through the collapsing streets, hunter and hunted sprinting toward a concentration of frantic crowds. The costumed Festival-goers had congregated in an enormous piazza, all pushing against each other in a giant, amoebic mob.

The Fantom plunged into the fray, becoming just another mask in a veritable sea of them. Quatermain did his best to keep an eye on him, running the Fantom down like a cheetah running down its prey.

The whistling flare soared overhead before beginning a stately descent under the influence of gravity. Some of the people cheered, as if they believed the bright fireball to be a token of impending rescue. Upon seeing it, Quatermain knew that the young Tom Sawyer had succeeded. He paused for just a moment. "Bravo, lad," he murmured, "Bravo."

The Fantom, on the other hand, looked up in dismay when he saw Nemo's rocket soar into flight, much larger than the small signal flare. The rocket hurtled straight down towards the city.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Sawyer, dazed, sat in the wreckage of the car, staring at the gaping hole his rather violent entry had punched through the theater wall. Nemo's car had come to a rest inside, its internal components hissing and groaning as a ceiling timber fell in a shower of plaster dust.

He shook his head, rubbing a hand across his forehead and ignoring the streak of blood he found there. The windshield had shattered, spraying glass everywhere. He began to pick his way out of the ruined vehicle, sore, battered, with ringing ears.

At least he had launched the flare.

The flare…

Flare meant rocket.

The nose of said rocket chose that moment to plunge through the theater roof, prompting sawyer to yelp and scramble for the nearest window. He dove headfirst into the street as the rocket struck, and the theater exploded all around him.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

From the crow's nest of the _Nautilus_, Nemo observed the explosion in the distance and crossed his arms over his blue uniform with satisfaction. They had done it. They had saved Venice from the Fantom's attack.

Now, if only his companions had survived.


	18. Fantoms and Shadows

AN: It's that day again- and thanks for the reviews!

Chapter Eighteen: Fantoms and Shadows

Venice

Night

The rocket had succeeded, its explosion creating a shock wave that crumbled the key domino before the collapse caught up with it. The marching destruction lost its power, stymied like a forest fire blocked by a firebreak. The avalanche faltered and finally died off.

Quatermain took only a moment to stare, but that moment was enough for the Fantom. The villain disappeared into the crowd while the old hunter stood frozen, wondering if Sawyer had been hurt.

Quatermain cursed when he realized that the Fantom was making a break for it. He darted across the piazza, elbowing cheering survivors out of his way in his haste to catch up. He spotted a glimpse of the Fantom's swirling cape as he ducked down another street, hiding himself away in the shadows

The Fantom wasn't alone- for the briefest of moments, the old hunter saw another dark shape running along just ahead of the Fantom. Quatermain left the giddy celebration behind and tried to follow his nemesis, who flowed like an oil slick into the darkness after the other runner. He paused at the ornate cast-iron gate that marked the entrance into an overgrown, walled cemetery.

Inside was a shadowy maze of trees and mausoleum structures, crypts, vaults, tombstones, and statues. The iron gate stood ajar, the weeds within trampled.

The Fantom and his mysterious friend had gone in there to hide. They could be anywhere inside, Quatermain realized as he cautiously entered, hunter senses on full alert. He stepped forward, taking care where he stepped in order to make the smallest amount of noise possible. He noted a broken branch, examined it, and found it to be still moist- a fresh break. The hunter peered into the shadows, searching for any sign of the men in black.

After a few moments of this, he decided that he had had enough of stealth. _Now _was the time for confrontation, not stalking. "You've failed, Fantom!" Quatermain proclaimed in a voice loud enough to startle a pair of doves into flight, counting that the villain's pride would make him reveal himself. "Venice still stands."

"I applaud your persistence, Mr. Quatermain." The Fantom's voice rang from every direction, not revealing the location of its owner.

"It is the persistence of an old dog, too blinded not to know when to quit." admonished a second voice, cold and cruel. "Like dear little Daria, but without even her style."

Quatermain snorted. "Oh, you'll be clapping all right, when I get my hands on you." He pressed on through the shadows, continuing the hunt.

But the Fantom and his ally easily avoided the old adventurer, disembodied voices floating out of the darkness.

"And like a dog smelling blood, you can't see the whole picture," the Fantom goaded.

"I see that you've failed. It's obvious enough."

"That was merely one objective."

"Wheels move within wheels," purred the cold voice.

Out of the corner of his eye, Quatermain saw a flittering shadow as the pair continued their taunts.

"Other schemes proceed as planned. There's nothing you can do to stop them."

"Indeed." added the cold voice. "You are fighting the Hydra, Mr. Quatermain. Whenever one head falls, two more rise to take its place."

The hunter spun, aimed his Winchester- but he could see nothing. "I know your big secret," he announced, playing his trump card. He thought he saw a glint of silver as be passed a particularly thick patch of foliage. The Fantom's mask, perhaps? "I now all about your spy."

The Fantom's voice was calm, collected, completely unsurprised. "Ah, do you,"

Quatermain took a shot towards the voice. For a split second, he thought he had hit the Fantom, but the shotgun pellets merely sprayed chips of white marble from the statue of a stone angel.

The hunt continued, the Fantom moving like his namesake through his dark domain. He chose when to speak, throwing his voice like a ventriloquist. His hidden partner remained silent, invisible in the darkness.

"You see yourself as the brave John Bull," the Fantom goaded. "But I know you are a coward, Quatermain. Hiding from the memory of your son's death." He laughed tauntingly. "You should have trained him a little batter. I am not the only failure here, Allan Quatermain. But your mistake was much larger, wasn't it? You may as well have put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger yourself."

Quatermain started to react, then stopped and gritted his teeth, refusing to open fire indiscriminately. Better to wait for a clear shot, a good target.

"We know all about you-" Then the Fantom froze as his black shoe encountered a dry branch, the crack echoing throughout the cemetery like a gunshot.

The hunter searched for where it had come from. "It's you who fears the mirror, sir- and not, I think, because of the scars."

His eye caught another flicker of movement off to his right. He whirled, realizing as he did so that it was just a swaying branch. The movement did, however, give him a glimpse of more motion to his left, vanishing behind a tree.

"And why might that be?" inquired the cold voice. The tone carried more than a hint of mockery, aimed, Quatermain suddenly realized, not at himself, but at the Fantom.

The hunter eased forward, rifle extended. "It's because he is neither extraordinary…" He lunged around the trunk like a cat pouncing on a mouse. "Nor a gentleman!"

The Fantom lashed out, knocking the gun aside just as Quatermain fired a split second too late. The Winchester's blast rang out, sending bits of debris flying. The Fantom darted forward, a silver stiletto clutched in his hand as he collided with the old hunter. The blade came down with the speed of a striking cobra, catching Quatermain in the shoulder.

With a roar, Quatermain struck, backhanding the villain across the face that, by all rights, should have felled a water buffalo. The Fantom reeled away, his mask skittering across the ground. Quatermain glimpsed the once-hidden face, expecting to see a disfigured ruin. What he saw, however, was even more shocking.

The Fantom was M!

Quatermain's blow had scraped loose some of the half-hidden 'scars' on the Fantom's face, which were now revealed to be merely lumps of flesh-colored wax and paste. In short, stage makeup.

"You?" Quatermain blurted, "What the-?"

"Well done, _James_," sneered the cold voice, its owner still hidden in the shadows.

"You don't know the half of it," M snarled. "Fool." He spun with catlike agility, kicking Quatermain's legs out from under him. As the old hunter fell back against a hard block of stone, the knife injury in his back pulsing with agony, M grabbed his fallen silver mask and scrambled away.

Despite the pain of the deep wound, Quatermain was quick to recover. Ignoring the sudden spurt of blood the action let loose, he ripped the stiletto from his shoulder and flung it after the Fantom.

The blade flew true and found its mark, it point sinking into M's back as he fled. He howled, staggered, than sprinted away into the darkness. He must have been wearing that same blasted body armor that his henchmen used.

The last thing Quatermain knew before he collapsed was a flash of glittering green eyes and the sound of retreating footsteps.


	19. Sign of the Hawks

AN: I decided to post this one too, because it's pretty short. Enjoy.

Chapter Nineteen: The Black Hawks

The Ruins of Venice

Night

Daria came to with a groan as she collected a self-status report. She hurt, the throbbing pain mainly coming from her head, keelbone, and from three stinging lines down her back. The gyrfalcon-shaped Tau'ka twisted her head around to look at the damage. As she'd expected, there were three nasty marks there, fortunately no longer bleeding. Even better, she should still be able to fly back to the _Nautilus_, despite her bruised keelbone.

_Well,_ she thought, _I have had worse. But what hit me?_

That was indeed the question to ask. What creature would be brave enough- or insane enough- to attack a gryphon from the sky? She couldn't think of any native creature that would fit the bill.

That is, until she saw the red-and-black feather on the tiles. She knew that feather, as much from the distinctive striping as from the aura it seemed to exude. And one Tau'ka would always know another, simply by noticing this distinctive essence. She had more reason than most to know from whom the feather had originated.

_K'Wah!_ her mind screamed. _Black Hawk!_

And where one found K'Wah, one always found his twin brother Koor.

_They ARE here!_

And they were working with the Fantom.

Daria pushed herself to her feet, mentally kicking herself for not telling the others about the Black Hawks when she had a chance. If those two had been involved directly, then there was no telling what had happened, or who had survived the encounter.

That thought made her blood run cold. From here, she had no way of telling which of her companions were alive, if any. If anything had happened to them because she hadn't mentioned the Black Hawks, she would never forgive herself.

She reared back, sending out a wide-spectrum telepathic call.

_K'Wah!_ she screamed silently. _Koor! I am coming for you! And when I get my hands on you, you'd better hope you have a sarcophagus handy, because you are going to need it!_

A faint ghost of a reply reached her telepathic "ears"- a faint, cold chuckle.

_Good luck with that, little sister._

Daria felt her talons dig into the rooftop and was vaguely glad that there was nothing in sight that would be damaged by a little display of Tau'ka temper. She _hated_ that endearment. Come to think of it, she hated the Hawks too.

_Stop that,_ she ordered herself. _Think. Get back to the Nautilus before you do anything stupid. Find out what the situation is, then tell whoever's left about the Hawks._

_If there is anyone left._


	20. Shades of Gray

AN: I am updating today to mark a momentous occasion: This series is now officially a year old. It seems like a long time since last October when I was tearing around all the local bookstores looking for a copy of the LXG novelization so I could start working on this series. Now, only three months after the first posting of 'Queen of Spades', we are at the halfway point in 'Eight Card Deck'. I want to thank the readers who have stuck with me and encouraged me to keep on writing. It's for you guys that I'm posting two more chapters today.

Chapter Twenty: Shades of Gray

The _Nautilus_

Night

Inside the rocket room of the _Nautilus_, Ishmael and the crew cleaned up the aftermath of the destruction. The air was thick with the smell of smoke from burned plastics and scorched circuitry, and puddles of water lay on the deck where a few trickles had made their way through leaks in the stressed hull-plates. However, the loyal first mate and his men had already seen to the most vital of problems

Ishmael sighed at the mess and continued his inspection, marking down necessary repairs on a clipboard. The great submarine vessel could still move, but she was a far cry from being "good as new". The falling bridge had caused the most damage, most of it fortunately only cosmetic on the beautiful exterior of the Sword of the Ocean.

The two crewmen assisting him were covered in soot and grease, like Ishmael himself. One man climbed out of the rocket launcher. "All secure, Ishmael," he reported.

The first mate nodded and sighed again. "Let me handle the rest from here. Go report to Captain Nemo and then check the engine room. I want to be away from here as soon as the League returns."

The two men departed, closing the bulkhead door behind them and leaving Ishmael to sigh so more over all the work that remained to be done. "She hasn't been battered so badly since our bout with that giant squid," he muttered sorrowfully to himself.

An outside hatch opened as Ishmael picked up a mop to begin cleaning up the nearest patch of puddles. Dorian Gray entered from the night, looking uncharacteristically battered and bedraggled.

"Mister Gray!" The first mate stared in shock at his condition. "What happened to you?"

Though he showed no sign of actual physical injury, Gray's normally impeccable clothes were riddled with bullet holes and deep slashes from his battles with the Fantom's henchmen. Self-satisfied and struggling to maintain the shreds of his dignity, he slipped the sticky cane-sword back into its sheath. "Mere misadventure and difference of opinion. It was somewhat amusing, actually." He looked around, seeing Ishmael alone in the mess of the rocket room. "Have the others returned?"

"You're the first, sir," Ishmael replied, "but hopefully not the last." He turned back to his work. "All this because of a damned traitor. That invisible thief has a lot to answer for."

"Skinner?" Gray said calmly, "No, not Skinner."

The first mate glanced up, confused by the comment. Dorian Gray had drawn a pistol from his jacket pocket.

"Me."

The pistol barked four times in rapid succession, and Ishmael fell, clutching the mortal wound in his chest.


	21. Reorganizing

AN: Of course I couldn't just leave you with that, not could I? That would be such bad form…

Chapter Twenty-One: Reorganizing

The ruins of Venice

Night

Over the next hour, the League members returned from the streets one at a time, picking their way through the rubble, finding a safe path along ruined towpaths and walkways. The _Nautilus_ rested among flotsam, her ceramic armor shell woefully cracked and scarred in many places.

The buildings around them tilted drunkenly, large walls had been shattered or had simply collapsed like the bridge that had once spanned over the canal where the _Nautilus_ rested. Its ruins filled the water around her.

Nemo's medics were busy looking after wounded crewmen, assisted by Mina and Jekyll, both of whom had surgical experience. The turbaned captain himself directed operations while several crew members cleared debris from around the vessel. The activity was briefly interrupted by a young, bespectacled Carnival-goer wearing an elaborate hat with a big puffy feather on it who had stumbled into the ruined plaza yelling "Oh, me! Pick me! I want to go sailing!" at the top of her lungs. She was removed by several friends, who grabbed her by the arms and hauled her off, a redheaded girl apologizing profusely.

"Do you think the others made it?" Mina asked Jekyll quietly. He started to shake his head to indicate that he didn't know when the sound of wings caught his attention. The doctor turned and saw a large bronze gryphon landing heavily on the far side of the plaza.

"Daria!" he exclaimed, running over. The events of that afternoon were forgotten, suddenly unimportant as he rushed to her side. She started and squawked as he approached, head snapping up in surprise. As he skidded to a halt, he noticed the streaks of dark blood on her feathers. "Good God, Daria, are you all right? What happened? Let me-" He reached a hand towards the cuts.

She shied like a nervous horse, wings half-furling as she stepped away awkwardly. "It iss not bad," she said, refusing to let Jekyll look at the injuries. "I have had worrsse injuries in a practice match."

He wasn't taking no for an answer. "Let me look at them." He took a step towards her.

Daria actually growled and raised a hand to display the talons warningly. Jekyll froze at the sight.

_What was that for?_ Hyde demanded. _He was trying to help!_

She shifted back to her own shape, staggering a bit. When Jekyll reached out to steady her, she pushed it away. "I don't need help," she snapped. "Not from you."

Jekyll was at a loss for words at her reaction. "But…" he said. Then it dawned on him. "Is this about earlier?" he asked softly. "Really, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I didn't mean to hurt you like that…"

She raised an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest and giving him a cold, scathing look. "Save the apologies for later, Jekyll," she said. "Isn't there someone else you need to be helping?"

"I…" Jekyll stammered. "Daria, I'm just glad you're safe…"

The hard mask cracked a little bit, just for a moment. "Later," she said, this time less forcefully. "Who else made it back?"

"Just you and Mina so far. What happened to your back?"

"I was attacked," Daria said. "Don't worry about it. Look, there's something I have to tell everybody. The Fantom-"

"The Fantom is M." a voice announced. Quatermain was striding towards the group, holding a bloodstained rag to his injured shoulder. Jekyll ran over to help, but the hunter waved off his assistance. The mousy doctor, looking peeved that no one seemed to want his assistance that night, handed him a long strip of cloth and he expertly field-dressed the wound.

"M? What are you saying?" Jekyll asked. Nemo, Daria, and Mina moved closer. Quatermain explained.

"M- the very man who recruited us to fight the Fantom. And he wasn't alone. There was another man with him."

"Tall, dark-haired?" Daria inquired. "Green eyes that reflect the light?"

Quatermain nodded. "Yes. How did you know?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "That was Koor. He's one of the Black Hawk brothers. I was sent to Earth to track him and his twin K'Wah. They were working with a crime lord called Moriarty until his death- that was when I lost track of them. Sanderson Reed dropped the hint that they were working with the Fantom--"

"M." Quatermain corrected.

"M," Daria agreed, "and since my assignment was to capture them, I accepted the position in the League to further my own aims."

"So you were spying."

"Weren't you listening? I freely told all of you that I am a spy. But I have never been spying on anyone in the League."

Nemo frowned. "Why are you tracking these 'Black Hawks'?" he asked.

"Two reasons- firstly, they are my assignment. Second, they are probably a greater threat to the safety of this world than M is. They take Tau'ka superiority to the degree of trying to wipe out humans entirely. I believe that they are here to use M's plans to utterly destroy the human race on Earth." She gritted her teeth. "I also have a…personal vendetta against them. Among other things, they killed my parents."

Silence met her statement. Nemo was the first to speak.

"If they are of your race, then do they have powers like you do?"

She nodded. "They are both Com-paths like myself. Koor, the elder, has the ability to call fire, is the brains of the pair, and can make himself invisible for short periods of time. K'Wah is more martially oriented than Koor is, and he is a shapeshifter. I ran into him tonight, with rather, ah, painful results." She indicated the trio of gashes along her back.

"So I saw Koor, then," Quatermain said. "That explains how he disappeared so easily. But where are the others?"

"Dorian's missing in action," Mina said. "And Skinner must have fled when he realized that we knew all about him."

"No one has seen Mr. Skinner since we arrived in Venice. He and M were probably working together." Nemo stroked his long beard thoughtfully. "Actually, no one has ever seen him, for that matter. Who knows who the man could have been originally?"

"I still don't think it was Skinner," Daria muttered. She had done further tests on the sample she had picked up from the handle of her cabin door, and those tests indicated that the intruder was not the invisible thief- not with molecules of cologne sticking to the sample. But of course, no one was listening.

"And what about… Tom Sawyer?" Quatermain asked, evidently trying not to sound too interested.

A happy, American-accented drawl came from out of sight. "Aw, he'll live to fight another day." Sawyer stepped out of the shadows between two buildings, a little battered but triumphant. "And I sure do intend to."

Quatermain nodded his approval. "And we shall see that you get the chance. As soon as possible."

Mina went to Sawyer, but the young American looked nervous as she paid all together too much attention to the fresh blood of his wounds. She chuckled. "Don't worry," she assured him "I've had my fill of throats for this evening."

"Cap'n…Cap-" Ishmael lurched to one of the hatches, clutching the frame with a bloody hand and standing there weakly. Crimson soaked his chest, and he was drawing on the last of his strength just to remain standing upright.

The League members ran forward, but Nemo reached him first, taking the first mate's shoulders as his knees turned to water. "It was Gray…"

Ishmael collapsed, and Nemo took his old friend in his arms. Blood stained the captain's normally impeccable blue uniform, but he didn't care. "Rest now, Ishmael," he said. He glared up at the cringing English doctor on the dock. "Jekyll," he ordered sharply. "Tend to him! Now!"

Jekyll scurried forward, but the first mate refused to be tended. He had kept himself alive through the urgent need to explain the treachery to his captain. "Not… Skinner. _Gray_." He clutched Nemo's uniform blouse, and the captain held his hand, squeezing it, as his eyebrows drew together and his eyes kindled with deadly flames.

"Gray's… tricked us all, Cap'n," Ishmael gasped. Then, his mission complete, Ishmael died from the terrible gunshot wounds.

"Another fallen friend, another lost soul." Nemo's voice sounded hollow and deeply forlorn. "After all the amazing exploits we shared, under the polar icecaps, through the Suez Canal, finding Atlantis, and undersea volcanoes… We have just shared our last."

Quatermain, ignoring the pain in his wounded shoulder, held Jekyll back to give Nemo a moment to grieve. "I understand, Captain."

Mina was staring at the dead first mate as if in disbelief. "But Dorian…? How could—"

"I am going to refrain, Quatermain," Daria said grimly, "from telling you that I told you so. I knew Skinner wasn't the spy."

Suddenly, from within the submarine vessel, they heard the thrumming sound of machinery grinding to life. Angered, Nemo stood and looked around at his crewmen, but none of his workers were operating any of the _Nautilus's_ systems.

"What is it?" Sawyer asked. "All that noise?"

The aquatic vessel shuddered.

"That is the sound of treachery!" Nemo rushed up the gangplank with the rest of the League at his heels. The crewmen shouted, calling themselves to arms. Together, the League members dashed across the _Nautilus's_ hold, following her dark and angry commander.

When they reached the far side of the vessel, Nemo leaned out of an observation hatch.

From the aft, a massive section of the vessel's hull separated from the rest of the submarine. A hemispherical craft detached itself from the main vessel, lifted up, and floated free after uncoupling from the _Nautilus_.

Nemo's face held a storm of pure fury and vengeance but he could do nothing about the situation. The small craft was unreachable from where they stood. Quatermain pressed closer to him.

"But… what is that thing?" Sawyer asked. "You've sure got a lot of tricks up your sleeve, Captain."

"It is my exploration pod," Nemo said. "I call it a nautiloid."

Then, its propellers churning, the smaller craft spun around in the canal, and they could see Dorian Gray seated at the controls. He locked eyes with the League and raised a hand in scornful dismissal.

"Dorian," Mina murmured. "Why?"

But Gray didn't seem interested in her at all. He looked back at them coldly as the nautiloid retreated down the narrow channel, but the _Nautilus_ was in no condition to depart.

As the nautiloid continued to withdraw down the canal, four men dashed down the narrow streets to intercept it. Quatermain saw them, his face darkening with anger as he recognized two of them. M, still wearing his Fantom clothes, and his lieutenant Dante jumped from a crumbling bridge over the widening waterway and dropped onto the waiting craft.

Daria clenched her teeth at the sight of the Fantom's two other companions. The only thing that kept her from giving chase was a sudden painful twinge from her injured back, which was forcibly reminding her that she really was in no shape for another fight this night. Still, she hated to see the Black Hawks getting away like this.

Dorian Gray opened an upper hatch and the quartet of villains climbed into the safety of the nautiloid.

Quatermain clenched his fists. "Nemo, can you track that? Like you did the car?"

"Track it?" Nemo growled, furious. Ishmael's bloodstains still shone brightly on his uniformed chest. "More than that, Mr. Quatermain. I intend to catch it!"


	22. The Message

AN: I have noticed over the past couple of weeks that several people have added ECD to a Favorites list. This, I am happy to see. However, I would greatly appreciate it if those of you who are doing this (You know who you are) would leave a review or two.

Thanks everyone for your support!

OSC

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Chapter Twenty-Two: The Message

The _Nautilus_

The _Nautilus_'s engines thundered to life, and the propellers churned sediment from the canals. At the urgent steam whistle that signified imminent departure, Nemo's crewmen jumped back aboard, ready to go. They ran across the decks, scrambled down metal rungs into the hold, and sealed the hatches overhead.

With every moment the Fantom and his cohorts drew farther away.

Captain Nemo went to the control room, which seemed ominously empty without his first mate, and stood directing operations. "Enough. We must be off." His voice was cold and flat, diamond hard, with deliberate determination.

Clattering and straining under heavy gear-turnings, the cable moorings retracted automatically, tearing the towpath stanchions from their mounts in a shower of old brick and rusted anchor-spikes. Creating a foaming wake, the undersea ship backed away through the narrow canal, working itself around debris from the collapsed bridge.

"Check all systems," Nemo said into the voice tube. "Verify our repairs. I need this ship running and ready to submerge as soon as we are away from Venice."

The uniformed men worked together in a grim blur, calling readings to each other, running through test results, patching a last few leaks. They checked vital systems and rerouted secondary equipment where necessary to keep the _Nautilus_ alive and increase her speed. The ship cruised like a plump crocodile through reeds as it navigated its way out of a maze of canals.

Daylight began to tinge the sky, illuminating the shaken Carnival revelers who were still abroad in the streets. Some of them watched the armored hulk churn along, dragging the torn stanchions like trolling fishhooks behind it. The engines increased their output, and the vessel stirred up a thunderous foaming wake, as if a dragon had just passed by. The few bleary-eyed witnesses assumed that the strange ship was merely a part of the Carnival, just one more strange spectacle.

As the _Nautilus_ passed, one bespectacled girl watched it forlornly. "But I want to go sailing," she muttered as her friends pulled her away.

As the morning brightened, the people of Venice- many of them nursing a variety of hangovers- began to pick up the pieces.

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Finally submerged and heading back out into the Adriatic Sea, the _Nautilus_ powered into deep water. Its engines and propellers drove it forward at maximum speed.

But the stolen nautiloid had a substantial head start.

Nemo called the remaining members of the League into his stateroom after the injured had gotten patched up. While they watched, the captain slid back a large panel to reveal a contour map of the ocean floor. He had drawn it personally, based on data he and Ishmael had collected over the years and their many thousands of leagues under the sea. Two spidery mechanical pointers drifted across the contour lines, a large _N_ signifying the _Nautilus_, and a lowercase _n_.

Nemo gestured to the smaller pointer, upon which the larger was slowly gaining. "That is the nautiloid. We'll be upon it soon."

Tom Sawyer was eager for the hunt, but he noted Mina Harker's sadness. She seemed paler than usual, quiet and withdrawn. "Are you all right, Ma'am?"

"I'm just a little shaken," she murmured. Just…_Dorian_. I can't believe what he did."

"Not all fellows wear two faces, you know," Sawyer said, clearly meaning himself. "Some are perfectly honest and upstanding people."

Mina looked into the young man's blue eyes, then turned away. Private gloom hung around her like a pale burial shroud.

Then, while they were all intent on the undersea map, a high-pitched whistle resonated through the stateroom chamber. Nemo looked up, puzzled. The sound seemed to be coming from far off, but somewhere _inside_ the ship.

"Nemo?" Quatermain asked. "What is it?"

Nemo frowned, concerned. "It is nothing of mine. I know all the sounds on my ship."

A crewman named Patel raced down the outer corridor, urgency written on his face. He dodged other crewmen, pushing past them to get to the captain's stateroom. The noise followed him, growing louder at first, then higher in pitch and harder to hear.

Nemo opened his cabin door just in time for Patel to rush up. He carried a flat leather case, which he held out in front of him as if afraid it might explode any moment. Thankfully, though, the high-pitched sound had grown so thin and weak that it could no longer be heard by the humans.

Patel came to a breathless halt and spluttered his report. "Captain! The noise came from this." Nemo took the case from him, and the crewmen seemed glad to be rid of it.

Inside the stateroom, he gingerly opened the case to reveal a big wax disk. He picked it up and studied it in the light.

"What is it?" Daria asked, cocking her head to get a better look at it.

"It is a recorded disc," Nemo said after another moment of observation. "Someone has left us a message."

"But, don't recordings come on cylinders?" Sawyer asked.

"It is a gramophone disc," the captain explained. "Of the type invented by Emile Berliner. I adopted the technology on my vessel some time ago. The Fantom- M- knows that." He placed the disc on a player that rested on the small bureau in his cabin and started the machine.

As he listened, Sawyer tried to imagine the gloating man who had recorded the words specifically for them to hear…


	23. Extraordinary Revelations

AN: I must admit, I was disappointed when only one person reviewed last week (Kudos to my dear **Skunk and Donkey**, who did. You rock.). Then I was reminded by a friend of mine that it is mid-October, and therefore the dreaded time of the Quarterly Finals (You know you've been writing a lot of LXG fanfic when you go to type 'Quarterly' and you automatically type 'Quatermain' instead…). I'm looking forward to hearing from you lot once they are over.

As a break from cramming, I offer unto you two chapters.

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Chapter Twenty-Three: Extraordinary Revelations

_M's Private Headquarters_

_Previously…_

In a dark parlor, M sat in a padded leather chair, his long, thin fingers laced together. All around him, the furnishing were deep crimson and burgundy, from the thick curtains on the wall to the Persian rug on the floor. He had dispensed with all pretense of his Fantom mask or false scars. His heavy brows drew together, furrowing his high forehead.

He sat near a gramophone recorder, which was operated by a lady recordist. She seemed pale and listless, without heart or hope. M paid no attention at all to her until she had finished adjusting the smooth, blank wax disc and placed the needle in its position.

"Ready, Professor?" she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Recording."

M began to speak and, with a faint scratching sound, the recorder needle began scraping a thin spiral of wax from the gramophone disc.

"Gentlemen. If you are hearing this, then every step leading up to it had gone as planned, even if you do not realize it. Yet."

Smiling coolly, Dorian Gray stepped from the shadows in the den to amble around M's chair. "And I have been true to the goals set to me, as well." He spoke in a dry voice, making sure the gramophone picked up his words, and the irony that dripped from them. "Yes, it's me-Dorian. You know by now that I'm no loyal son of the Empire."

He casually lifted an apple from a bowl of fruit on the mahogany table, set it back down with disinterest, then walked over to stand behind the high-backed leather chair where M sat.

"In fact, my loyalty to Mr. M comes in no small part from his possession of something I hold dear to my heart." From behind, Dorian looked down at the cadaverous leader. His eyes flashed, as if he could barely suppress an impulse to strangle the man. "Something I'll do anything to regain."

Two other figures drew forward from the shadows, both wearing identical cold smiles. "Yes," the first one said softly. He was thinner than his companion, but otherwise the two were identical. "Mr. Gray has done an admirable job holding his end of the bargain.

Gray glared at the speaker, looking about willing to strangle him too.

M leaned forward like a vulture, as if the audience listening to his recording could actually see him too. "Everything so far has been misdirection. "He smiled over at Sanderson Reed, who also stood in the room for the recording. "My 'bumbling bureaucratic assistant', Sanderson Reed, who so easily recruited both Mr. Quatermain and Miss Noclaf. The assassins in Kenya. Your whole mission, and the excuse I gave you. Venice. Even the assembly of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen."

He chuckled, a cold, cruel sound. "_There is no League!_ There never was. A few old paintings, an unused meeting room in the basement of the museum, and a dashing good story. It was just a ruse to get me closer to my real goals.

"You see, I want _you_. Each of you, even tired old Quatermain. I have no doubt he'll capture the bestial Mr. Hyde in Paris, where others so far have failed. That doddering Monsieur Dupin has been blundering about for months in Paris, ascribing the murders in the Rue Morgue to a wild monkey!"

Realizing he had strayed from the point, M sat straighter in his chair. Gray picked up the apple from the bowl after all and bit into it with a loud crunch. Reed looked at him, offended by the man's attitude.

"Even dear little Daria has a purpose," spoke the thinner twin. He snorted. "Honestly, Daria, if you haven't tracked us here by now than you are denser than K'Wah and I ever imagined." His brother shook his head as Koor continued. "You have been a thorn in our side for years, only effective enough to make us change our venue every so often. But our little game of cat and mouse must come to an end, as all things do. I suppose that the final move will come sooner rather than later. I look forward to your demise, little _shi'an'yaech_."

M, seeing that the gramophone disc was nearly full, continued. "So, my avid listeners, the important question is- why? Why all this cloak and dagger, masks and mystery? And why did I select the group of you, in particular, instead of, say, Sexton Blake, or Robur the conqueror, or Frankenstein's monster?"

He grinned. "Because in the war to come, I have already acquired many grand and innovative weapons from the most brilliant scientists of all nations of the world. However, I intend to wield the greatest weapon of all- the power of the League itself. And to that end, I set my wolf among you sheep. He will lead you far from green pastures."

"Growl," Gray said.

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Translation: _Shi'an'yaech_- "Sister-in-arms", used as an affectionate term among the Tau'ka.


	24. Bomb Voyage

AN: You know, these chapters look longer when they are being read in the context of the entire document, rather than a chapter at a time… Here's the second part.

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Chapter Twenty-Four: Bomb Voyage

The_ Nautilus_

Listening to the recording in Nemo's stateroom, the members of the League looked at each other and recalled details of their interactions with Gray. All the pieces clicked into place… like a bomb ready to detonate.

"Gray played like he was bored in his library, ready to turn us down, and then he claimed the battle was just the spur he needed to change his mind." Quatermain put a hand to the aching shoulder wound. "He knew it was going to happen all along."

"So that was his plan if I hadn't shown up," Sawyer added, crossing his arms. "Shucks, I should have known better." Daria just stood there looking furious with herself.

"I should have known better as well," she said. "So we were all fooled. There's a great footnote in the history of the League."

The gramophone recording continued to play. M's voice sounded superior and dismissive. "-And all the while I would collect _you_, thanks to Mr. Gray. The parts of you that I need. Nemo's and Daria's science…Skinner's skin sample."

Mina looked shocked as the realization dawned. "Magnesium phosphorus. Photographer's flash."

"The fingerprints on my door," Daria added. "They did belong to Gray. And there was powder on my floor too, but I thought it was just ship's dust or something."

Nemo's hands twitched as he remembered standing with Ishmael in the control room, sniffing samples of the powder they had found. "Yes, he must have photographed the details of my _Nautilus_, and whatever technology you kept in your rooms."

"My scanning and recording equipment," she growled.

Quatermain nodded, also remembering. "And in the ice room, where we kept Hyde chained, Skinner said that Gray had scratched him. _Accidentally_, he said. Must've used a little scraper to collect cells from the invisible man."

"And I was cut during that practice fight with the Captain," Daria added. "Gray loaned me his handkerchief. _Mai'tac…_"

Jekyll blinked and gulped. "That's what happened to the missing vial of elixir in my medical bag. Gray took it."

"I told you I didn't do it," Daria muttered to Quatermain.

The doctor rubbed his temples, as if he was getting a massive migraine. "He's stolen us," he said. "And we let him."

Then, with a tone of great triumph, Gray's voice finished on the recording. "And of course, dear Mina's blood."

The vampire lady limited her reaction to a faint gasp as she recalled how Gray had handed her a glass of sherry, how easily the glass had broken in her powerful grip, slicing her palm, how Gray had been so attentive, using a handkerchief to blot up the blood…

The League members remained stunned in the captain's stateroom, all of them showing signs of dismay. Nemo summed up their reactions with a cold threat. "And now all of us have our reasons for wanting to kill him."

Bothered by his oversensitive ears and an incessant, increasing pain in the back of his skull, Dr. Jekyll looked out of a dim porthole. He saw much more than just deep water and the faint shadows of fish outside- he saw a reflection of Hyde's twisted, bestial face. In the image, his alter ego clapped both hands to his temples, grimacing in agony. Inside Jekyll's head, Hyde cried out. _Turn it off, Henry! Turn it off!_

Daria noticed and walked over. What's wrong?" she asked.

Jekyll started, jumping away from the porthole. "My ears hurt," he said. "It goes through my whole skull. It's nothing."

The Tau'ka frowned. "You too? I thought it was just me, or the grama-thing." She waved at it. "I find that a lot of electronic devices give off high-pitched sounds that get painful after a while." She rubbed the back of her neck. "You're probably right. It's most likely nothing to worry about."

On the recording, the evil mastermind continued, "If you fail to save Venice, then I will get my war. And if you succeed- well, it's a small price to pay for giving Mr. Gray the luxury to go about his main task. War will come sooner or later, as inevitably as summer turns to autumn."

"M sure likes the sound of his own voice, doesn't he?" Sawyer commented.

M continued, like a schoolteacher lecturing a group of none-too-bright students. "Now some of you- perhaps Quatermain or Miss Noclaf, if they aren't dead, or perhaps maybe Skinner, who by all accounts is a sneaky, despicable chap- will pause to ask why I'm letting you know all this. What fool reveals his gambit before the game is over?"

M's voice paused, as if giving them a chance to answer the gramophone disc. "Because, you see, it _is_ over. For you. The alarm tone that revealed this recording's existence to you has automatically sounded when certain sensors determined that the _Nautilus_ is now deep under the ocean."

"Under a great deal of pressure," a new voice, K'Wah's, broke in. "Which is why Gray will take the nautiloid, so that you'll follow and get yourself in deep water."

"Perfectly predictable, perfectly boring," Koor added dryly.

Nemo and the others listened with dawning horror as M continued to relish his explanation. "I'm sure you're aware, Nemo, how sound can affect certain crystals? Resonance frequencies? The pitch of this particular sound is higher than humans can hear. You won't even notice it. And all the while it continues to grow louder, out of range. More powerful… and more destructive."

Jekyll cringed from the reflection of an agonized Hyde in the porthole glass. _I can't bear it, Henry! Please!_ Even Daria was starting to shake her head as if to get rid of water in her ears.

"Dog's and lower animals can hear it with their base instincts. But not men. Hence, while I've rambled on and you all have given me your rapt attention, a secondary layer of inaudible sound is pounding against a sequence of delicate crystal sensors dotted about your vessel."

Gray spoke again, sounding thoroughly entertained. "Sensors attached to bombs. _Bomb_ voyage!"

In sudden realization, Nemo swept the gramophone to the floor and stomped on the wax disc. But it was too late.

In the complex maze of pipes, ducts, cabinets, and conduits aboard the _Nautilus_. Gray had hidden three compact explosives, rigged to shimmering crystalline detectors. Without a complete overhaul, not even Ishmael would have found the bombs deep in the submarine's workings.

Now, although Nemo had destroyed player and recording, the crystal sensors trembled, clicked- and activated the destructive devices.

A huge thunderclap of force, noise, and fire erupted from the rear midhull. The fireball split through the armored side of the _Nautilus_, punching out into the ocean and then imploding under massive water pressure. Metal and ceramic shattered and spewed from a huge hole in the curved wall.

A column of water hammered inward like cannon fire, instantly filling the corridor. The shock wave wrenched the underwater vessel like a piggy bank being shaken by a child. Glass shattered. Sparks flew.

Inside Nemo's stateroom, the members of the League were thrown off-balance, careening into each other. The contour map that tracked the fleeing nautiloid was wrecked.

And then the second and third bombs exploded.


	25. Saint Out Of A Sinner

AN: Heyla all! Welcome to Tuesday, the day for updates! Thanks for those who reviewed (You know who you are- I love you all)

Without further ado, the chapter.

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Chapter Twenty-Five: Saint Out of a Sinner

The _Nautilus_

Although the lower chamber was on fire, cold seawater rolled into the rear engine room like a wall. Smoke gushed from the site of the first explosion and poured though ruined turbines. Sparks flew, crackling in the pools and spray.

The metal-walled room filled rapidly with the rush of water. Engineers died screaming, some trying to flee, others giving their lives in attempts to save the undersea vessel.

Two crewmen dashed for the aft bulkhead door. They leaped through and tried to swing the heavy hatch shut, but the force of the incoming water swept the door open and knocked the two backward.

Responding together, the League members rushed onto the bridge, where crewmen struggled with the controls. More than ever, Nemo wished that Ishmael were here.

"Midhull sealed, Captain," reported a crewman. "But the doors aren't holding! The water keeps rushing into the breach!"

The _Nautilus _shuddered and began to sink, the deck tilting at a steep angle. Charts and tools clattered off shelves and tables, thrown aside as the wounded, tail-heavy submarine began to sink.

"Nemo, we have to surface!" Quatermain shouted, stumbling into a bulkhead. "Get back up to the air."

"We have taken on too much water. The controls are no longer responding." Despite his own words, Nemo worked the vessel's control panels, but the systems remained dark and unresponsive.

Daria stood frozen in panic, sensing that her worst nightmares of drowning were about to come true. "Not water," she said blankly. "_To'kuro a ta me shikt taras me'toch'ke…_"

The _Nautilus_ sank through the water, like a shot pheasant tumbling out of the sky in slow motion. Three jagged holes had been blown out through its stern. Oil trails and fire spilled out, fragments of ceramic armor flaking off like broken bits of eggshell.

Drenched and battered, Crewman Patel- the provisional replacement for the murdered Ishmael- rushed toe the bridge, looking about for Nemo. "Primary engine room almost full, sir, and the aft bulkhead is still open! Pump valves are jammed."

"Seal it off," Nemo ordered. "That is the only way we can stabilize our descent."

"But there are men inside, Captain!" Patel protested frantically.

"For the greater good you must seal it!" the dark captain snapped. "The pressure will crush us within minutes, if we all don't drown first."

Squaring his shoulders, Patel rushed out, past a shaken Jekyll and a petrified Daria, both of whom were trying to steady themselves in a slanted corridor.

On the bridge, sparks sprayed, panels groaned, and water spurted. Quatermain, Sawyer, and Mina hung on as the vessel pitched even further. The room was already thick with smoke, and the pressure outside squeezed the walls like a giant fist.

"It'll be fine," Sawyer said, moving to comfort Mina.

The vampiress, however, was not interested in reassurance. "I'm a scientist, young man. That makes me a realist." She turned to Nemo. "Can nothing save us?"

"Only a miracle." Nemo said.

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The haggard Jekyll wrestled with his fears. He had already proved completely useless in Venice, and now he cursed himself for not understanding the problem swiftly enough. Hyde's bestial senses had heard the deadly high-pitched tone, but his rational mind had not understood the treacherous sabotage in time. He could have done something to prevent this disaster.

And now he intended to do something about it. But what?

Inside him, Hyde frankly agreed that they could do something. _We can do it, Henry! Just let me!_

Jekyll whirled, spotting Hyde's reflection in a piece of polished metal on the wall. "What are you talking about?"

Daria seemed to snap out of her daze at Hyde's declaration, although her face remained dead white. "He's right! It has to be you. There's no way I could pull this kind of thing off." She shuddered at the thought.

_You know we can, Henry,_ Hyde added, _We can do it. Together._

"But I don't have the-"

"Elixir?" Daria prompted, seizing on the task that needed to be done as an antidote for her terror. "Where is it?"

"My room, black medical bag-"

The Tau'ka nodded. "I'll get it. You get down there and keep Patel from closing the hatch." She turned and raced down the hall, sliding down the incline. Shaking with fear and inner turmoil, Jekyll followed, Hyde roaring inside his mind with impatient glee.

Daria scrambled down the hall, finally arriving at the guest quarters. Beneath her, the _Nautilus_ lurched again, sending her skidding further down the hall than she had intended. Desperately, she grabbed for a doorway and forced it open, balancing on the frame. She looked inside.

The cabin was a mess, with personal effects and furniture strewed all over the place. She recognized a small black case.

_Henry's room!_

The black medical bag that the doctor had mentioned was in sight, but out of reach.

_But since when have I let that stop me?_

She looked at it, concentrating. The case wobbled slightly in response to the telekinetic summons, but seemed to be hung up under what appeared to be the remains of a desk.

"Come _on!_" she snarled at it, focusing harder and adding a curt summoning motion. The case wobbled harder, than finally slid free, shooting across the room to land in her outstretched hand. Daria opened it and looked inside.

"_Mai'tach_, Henry!" she cried upon seeing the contents. "Telling me to get a vial from a bag is REALLY helpful when there's two dozen of them!" She closed it with a sharp snap. Might as well just take the whole thing. She raced towards the engine room.

Jekyll was arguing with Patel when she arrived.

"I'm going inside there!" Jekyll's voice seemed a mere squeak against the chaotic nose that filled the chamber.

"But I've got orders to close it!" Patel was protesting as the Tau'ka raced in.

"Here!" she cried, shoving the case into Jekyll's hands. "I brought the whole thing- you don't label things very well."

He picked a vial out seemingly at random. "They all contain the same formula."

"Oh."

"You won't get back out!" Patel shouted over the noise.

"Then do it!" the doctor snapped. "Don't worry about me." With that, he sprang into the waist-deep water that was rapidly filling the engine room.

"You'll never survive!"

"Maybe not," Jekyll agreed, still sloshing his way forward. "Or maybe we all will."

Patel realized there was no time to evacuate anyone else. He cursed, then wrestled the hatch closed with Daria's help. He knew that the _Nautilus_ itself had only a few more minutes before it imploded in the ocean's depths. He didn't suppose Jekyll would die any sooner than the rest of them…

Hatch closed, Daria backed into a corner as far away from the water as she could get, still clutching the black case. She crouched down, fighting through another rising wave of fear, and ordered herself to concentrate.

Inside the engine room, only a hellish air pocket of steam and fire remained above the water. Drowning crewmen splashed and struggled for last gasps. Only one man still worked at trying to restart the unsalvageable machinery.

Jekyll hauled himself along the riveted wall. Grasping the glass vial in his free hand, he yanked the stopper out with his teeth. For a split second, he hesitating, wondering if this was worse than a simple death by drowning. His hand trembled. If he dropped the vial into the water, everything would be over…

_Come on, Henry!_ Hyde snarled. _They need me! _YOU_ need me!_

The doctor faltered a moment more, but the men kept screaming, water continued to pour inside, and the _Nautilus_ sank ever deeper. More people would die if he didn't do his part. Many more. He gulped the bitter elixir.

Distantly aware of the agonizing transformation going on beneath her feet, Daria searched for a familiar consciousness. This had to work. The fact that Jekyll seemed to be afraid of what she was didn't matter anymore- and wouldn't matter if they all died. She would stand by him in this crisis. She would offer what help she could.

A pained cry got her attention, directing her to her target.

_It's alright, Henry!_ she 'shouted' over the psychic noise. She projected the sense of an encouraging hand on his shoulder. _You aren't alone._

Deep under the swelling water, it was Edward Hyde who grabbed hold of the wide-open aft bulkhead door. He was vaguely conscious of not one, but two voices in the back of his mind. Ignoring them, he swiped aside a pair of drowning crewmen who were still struggling to seal the bulkhead with their last breaths.

Driven by instinct now, Hyde would have preferred to rip things apart, bend pipes and girders, and smash open windows. But he knew that he had to close the breach and seal off the flood.

The hatch was heavy, forced aside by the continuing rush of water from the gaping hole. Hyde gripped the edge of the metal door straining to push it shut amidst shouts of encouragement from both Daria and Jekyll. He told them to be quiet so he could focus.

Finally, the hatch slammed shut like a door against a brisk wind. Hyde twisted the wheel to seal the sturdy hatch in place. Safe, for the moment.

_Now what?_ Jekyll asked, adapting surprisingly quickly to this new mode of communication..

_Pump valves,_ Daria answered promptly. _Nemo showed me where they are. _She sent an image of what the valves looked like._ Down and to the left of your position, Hyde. And hurry, please- it's getting __**very**__ wet up here!_

Hyde found the jammed pump valves and tried to turn them so that the pistons and gears would work again. The valves remained stuck, as if they were welded shut. But that didn't stop him.

He roared, and the last trickles of air escaped from his mouth in a cloud of bubbles. He hammered with his fist to loosen the valves, but the thick, cold seawater was sapping much of his strength. His vision grew dark, his anger increased, and he forced himself to think of the valves as an enemy to be defeated.

Then slowly, inch by inch, the valve wheel started to turn. Snarling, dizzy from the lack of oxygen, Hyde gave the lever another shove.

It jerked free, spinning loose, and the undersea vessel's vents open., hurling the massive man away. Screaming turbines began to evacuate water from the chamber. Hyde hooked his hands around a pipe and clung to it for dear life to keep from being sucked out.

He worked his way upwards as the water level dropped. High above, he could see silhouettes of struggling crewmen splashing about on the surface. _He needed air._

Higher and higher he climbed, until finally his shaggy head burst out into the air above the water. He gasped for breath.

Heard only inside his head, Jekyll's thin voice yelled over the sound of the rushing water. _Bravo, Edward! Bravo!_

Daria added an exhilarated victory whoop of her own. _Now if you boys don't mind, I think I'll go collapse somewhere._


	26. The AllAmerican Cheer Squad

AN: Heyla all! Happy Halloween! In honor of my favorite holiday (I'm going as Sherlock Holmes this year- big surprise there), I'll give you all another chapter!

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Chapter Twenty-Six: The All-American Cheer Squad

The _Nautilus_

The _Nautilus_ performed an emergency blow-out, bursting through the surface of the choppy water beneath a dawn sky. Air hissed out, water sprayed, and the scarred and damaged submarine sprawled on the sea like an exhausted whale. The slow chug of propellers moved the ship drunkenly forward, its engines coughing weakly.

Crewmen vented the vessel's foul interior to release smoke and stagnant atmosphereso they could pump in fresh air. They flung open the upper hatches as the engines and pumps continued to labor. Haunted-looking men pressed their heads out into the open breezes, amazed that they had live to see the surface again. One wet, solitary figure scrambled out onto the upper deck and sat there for many moments, pale and shaking. It was a long time before that individual regained the nerve to return belowdecks.

In dire need of repairs, the wounded _Nautilus_ creaked and moaned on the high seas. Nemo and his men were the only people on Earth with the knowledge and skills need to repair the exotic vessel.

Taking shifts inside, the surviving crewmen moved about in a daze, replacing broken fittings, resetting the furnishings, and mopping up the last pools of standing water that had flooded the corridors.

Quatermain, Sawyer, Nemo, and Mina met in the captain's stateroom to discuss the larger implications of M's schemes and to make plans of their own. With the exception of the ever-optimistic young American, all of them wore an air of defeat. Seeking an outlet for his anger and helplessness, Quatermain took the damaged gramophone disc from the player and made a point of grinding it under his heel.

Looking shell-shocked, Dr. Jekyll was the last to arrive, accompanied by Daria, who looked much better after her brief time on the upper deck. After his exertions, the elixir had worn off, leaving Jekyll in his frail and fidgety body. But he had served his purpose well. Quatermain nodded to the doctor in silent acknowledgement of his valor.

Jekyll shrank away, looking embarrassed. "Well, let's not make a saint out of a sinner. Next time, he may not choose to be so helpful.' To avoid further discussion (Daria looked like there was something she desperately wanted to say, but she held her tongue), he turned his attention to the wrecked undersea map. The markers that had traced the paths of the _Nautilus _and its exploration pod had fallen off, now lost among the general mess. "Can we still follow them?"

Mina made a disbelieving sound as she sat in Nemo's desk chair. "Even if we could get the nautiloid's signal, we barely have enough engine power to keep us moving."

"We were faster," Quatermain said. "Now we're the tortoise to his hare."

"Not even a tortoise," Nemo said gravely. "We are practically dead in the water."

"So we're… just done?" Jekyll asked. "We give up?"

Defeat clearly was not in Tom Sawyer's vocabulary. He took the challenge. "No, we're alive. If M has ideas to the contrary, that gives us an edge." He grinned, trying to rally his companions. "After all, we're the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, aren't we? That stands for something."

Daria scoffed. "In case you missed M's history lesson, kid, the League was a gimmick the entire time."

"The sea is vast," Nemo added, unimpressed. "Even if the ship could move, Gray- and M- could be anywhere."

"Well, I'm an optimist," Sawyer said flatly. "That may be a crime to you twisted so-and-sos, but being the way I am keeps me from going crazy." He looked at Allan Quatermain, expecting to find support there… but the youngster found none. "We'll figure out _something_."

"Your cheerfulness is out of place, Mr. Sawyer." Mina said.

"You're wrong. We _will_ get our man- at least I will." A shadow crossed his expression. "Y'all aren't the only ones with a grudge, you know. Remember when we first met, the other agent I told you about? The one who was first assigned to investigate the Fantom? Well, he was my childhood friend. He and I were agents together, until that masked madman shot him dead." He wrestled with his emotions, struggling not to get choked up. "The rest of you may be done, but I'm not. I swear I'm going to avenge Huck Finn's death."

"This isn't about any one of use, Tom. Certainly not anymore," Jekyll said. "It's bigger than that."

"Yes it is, Mister. The fate of the world is in our hands. The _world!_" Sawyer glared at them all.

"Yippee-skippy," Daria said dryly. "The whole world is in our hands, and it looks like someone's greased it."

"Come _on_, Daria!" Sawyer snapped. "You said that this is as much your fight as ours. You were sent here to stop those two terrorists of yours, weren't you?" He looked around at the others, trying to shake them out of their gloom. "Okay, so Dorian Gray was a traitor. And M tricked you into joining him, and you walked straight into his trap with eyes wide open," here he gave Daria another piercing glare, "But the way I see it, that was his big mistake… he brought you-_us_- together."

The League members looked at one another, considering.

"He has a point." Jekyll admitted.

"I wonder how K'Wah would like his liver served to him," Daria mused. Jekyll glanced at her in shock at the Tau'ka's bloodthirsty comment.

Quatermain cocked a brow at Sawyer, then finally responded with a wan smile of his own. "And the boy becomes a man. Perhaps a leader of men."

"And women," Mina added. She stood again and smoothed her skirts. "So what do we do?"

The recently promoted First Mate Patel burst in. "Captain!" he exclaimed. "We're getting a signal!"

"M or the Hawks gloating, no doubt," Nemo said. "They'll want to know if we survived.

Patel shook his head. "I don't believe it's from the Fantom or the Hawks, sir- and not Mr. Gray either."

Spurred to action the group rushed to the _Nautilus's_ radio room. A communications operator adjusted his headphones as he jotted down a message on processed kelp paper, one painstaking letter at a time.

Quatermain recognized the chattering device and the noise it produced from numerous African outpost telegraph stations. "Morse code," he said, mainly in response to Daria's questioning look.

"What's it say?" Mina asked.

The radio operator read all the words he had so far translated. "It says, "Hello my freaky darlings,""

"Skinner," Sawyer, Mina, Daria, and Quatermain said in unison.

"So the invisible man has joined M's treachery after all," Nemo said grimly.

Quatermain shook his head. That just didn't add up.

The communications operator continued reading off the message. "Hiding on board little fish with Gray, M, and two really ugly folks. On way to base. East by North East. Follow my lead."

"He stowed aboard!" Sawyer exclaimed.

"I take back that blabbermouth of a thief comment," Daria said with a laugh.

Quatermain clapped the young agent on the shoulder. "Our ace in the hole. You were right not to give up hope, lad." The American beamed.

"You heard him, Mr. Patel," Nemo said. "East by North East. All repair crews get to work on our engines, highest priority. I want this vessel moving with every ounce of speed the engines can manage, as soon as possible. Once we begin the chase again, we will make other repairs underway."

The new first mate rushed to follow his orders.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

As the _Nautilus_ floated on the surface, the reenergized crew worked to repair holes in the hull, reattach armor plates, and shore up structural braces form the inside decks. The damaged engines were the highest priority and underwent an urgent overhaul. Wrecked parts replaced were with spares, pistons and shafts were ground and refitted, oil reserves refilled, and fresh lubricants applied.

On the bridge, Nemo worked alongside the men to rewire circuits and connect pips and conduits. Because the entire submarine vessel was of his own design, the detailed plans remained in his own memory. First Mate Patel tested the patched controls while plotting coordinates.

Inside the stained engine room, Tom Sawyer lent exuberance, if no particular expertise, to tightening pipes and fixing gauges, wiping away lumps of excess sealant, and polishing the equipment to bring it back to a semblance of what it had been. Daria spent five minutes in the engine rooms before throwing up her hands in exasperation at what she found to be "primitive technology" by her standards and went to help Jekyll and Mina in the infirmary.

The three of them tended to severely wounded crewmen, saving as many as they could, but several of Nemo's longtime comrades had died. The dead heroes were buried at sea in a solemn ceremony the following foggy morning. Nemo allowed the desperate work to pause only briefly before sending everyone back to their tasks.

Still, with every instant, the nautiloid drew further and further away.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

When all the members of the League had gathered in the control room, along with Patel and other crewmen, Quatermain addressed the group. "Good work. All of you. Captain?"

Standing on the bridge, Nemo activated the controls. The tense and exhausted engineers and mechanics looked at their commander and at Patel. Then, with a throb and a hiss, the patched engines engaged, pumping with and ever-increasing roar until they reached full power.

Finally, the vessel began to move, straining against inertia. The _Nautilus_ crossed many leagues, picking up speed with each additional repair. The open seas posed no hindrance to the Sword of the Ocean as its jagged bow sliced through the waves like a shark in pursuit of prey.


	27. A League of Lovebirds?

AN: I'm just going to toss this chapter at you guys and run for cover. Please no traumatization- it's my first mush!

OSCOSCOSCOSC

Chapter Twenty-Seven: League of Lovebirds?

_The Nautilus_

Despite the submarine's rushing speed across the ocean, there was little for those onboard to do but wait. Some gathered their energies for the coming battle with the Fantom and his forces; others studied plans, assessing their options; many could not sleep due to dread and impatience. The ship's medic was forced to prescribe a number of sedatives.

Quatermain retreated to his cabin to continue looking over issues of _The Strand Magazine_, Scotland Yard reports, and even old records of the appearance of the real Phantom that had plagued the Paris Opera House. Obviously, they were different men, but M had taken the other villain as a model.

Quatermain turned the magazine's pages with the hand of his uninjured arm. On Nemo's spare gramophone player, he listened to a cracked fragment of M's recording as it played over and over.

When Nemo entered, Quatermain lifted the needle. He immediately saw that the captain did not bring good news.

"Skinner's signal has stopped," Nemo said gravely. "We no longer have any way to track them.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Outside, on the ship's observation deck under mockingly sunny skies. Sawyer stood staring at the horizon, as if hoping to somehow see the distant nautiloid.

Mina came up behind him, dressed in a full green skirt, with her usual red scarf wrapped around her throat to conceal the marks of Dracula's fangs. "Thank you," she said.

Sawyer turned to her, startled. "Uh, for what, Ma'am?"

"For your fearlessness." Mina stepped close beside him and looked out at the sea. "I've lived such a life of sorrow and regret- a long life- that I've always been rather afraid to step into tomorrow."

Sawyer grinned in his usual reckless manner. "Shucks, tomorrow's where I live and breathe."

Mina nodded. "Yes. I see it's not such a bad place after all." The _Nautilus _struck a set of heavy waves, causing spray to hiss off of its bow, but the water didn't reach the two standing on the deck.

Sawyer touched her gloved hand with a gentle fingertip. "Hey, if my earlier attentions offended you in any way… I'm sorry."

"I am disappointed," Mina said with a smile. "I didn't think Americans gave up so easily."

Sawyer blinked, then grinned, liking what he heard.

Off to one side, Allan Quatermain lay in a deck chair beside which he had stacked his research books and files, looking for all the world as if he were simply napping in the bright sunlight. But the old adventurer wasn't yet asleep, and was no stranger to the occasional bit of matchmaking. As he eavesdropped and watched through half-closed eyes, he allowed himself a small grin.

Now to see if the League's other pair of potential resident lovebirds could sort out their differences…

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Water poured in through leaks in the hull, an icy torrent chest deep. The cold liquid was everywhere, surrounding her, filling her eyes, her mouth, her lungs. She couldn't breathe…

With a panicked gasp Daria fought free of the blankets on the cot, stumbling towards the nearest washbasin blindly, only just making it before being sick.

The infirmary was quiet except for the noise she made- she was the one who was supposed to be on call for any emergencies that might happen. The Tau'ka hadn't really planned on taking that nap, but several days of work punctuated by nightmares of drowning had made the abandoned cot too difficult to resist.

She became aware of one hand gently brushing her hair away from her face, and another holding out a glass of water. Daria took the offered cup gratefully and proceeded to rinse out her mouth.

"Bad dream?" Jekyll asked quietly.

Daria stared blankly at the wall. "You probably think I'm really pathetic," she muttered, unable to bring herself to look at him. "Can't even handle a little water."

_Oh yes, quite._

"Edward!" Jekyll admonished his alter ego. "You and I both know that's not true."

_She said it._

She grinned weakly. "I guess I did, didn't I?"

He nodded, tugging on her sleeve to guide her to a nearby seat, settling himself next to her. "You are certainly not 'pathetic', Daria. Look at how you handled yourself back in Venice. There is no way I could have done that."

Daria's voice held a slightly bitter note. "Tau'ka were made for combat. Of course Venice wasn't a problem."

It wasn't fair, the way Fortune was throwing the two of them together like this. It wasn't enough that she'd fallen for the shy doctor, when she would leave at the end of the mission. It wasn't enough that he was afraid of what she was and what she represented.

_When I die, I'm going to track down whatever power is incarnating itself as Fortune and give it a piece of my mind,_ she thought.

"Look," Jekyll said quietly. "My conduct the other night- it was inexcusable. I… I overreacted, and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"You certainly did," she replied harshly as her temper flashed. An awkward silence fell for a long moment before she added, "But I understand. It must have been a shock."

Jekyll grinned weakly. "What, that the woman I was attempting to court turning out to be an alien from another world? No, no shock at all. Why would you think that?"

The Tau'ka hesitated. Was that supposed to have been a joke?

_According to every low-rate romance novel, _Hyde interjected, _Now is the time you-_

"Edward, please!" Jekyll interrupted.

The corner of Daria's mouth twitched in a grin. "You what? Proclaim your undying love for me?"

_Something like that._

Daria tilted her head slightly, studying the embarrassed physician's face. "You turn the most remarkable shade of red. I don't think I've ever seen anyone that color before."

He cleared his throat awkwardly in an attempt not to go any redder. After a moment's silence- this one less fraught with tension than the earlier one- he spoke again. "Would there be any chance of… of us?"

She could not believe her ears. "Of- what?"

"Us," Jekyll repeated. "Together?"

He was asking what she thought he was. _That piece of my mind is going to be a good one if this works,_ Daria thought numbly as her stomach did an odd little flip.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, there is a good chance. A very good one."

Jekyll's posture went from one of nervous apprehension to one of limp relief. "I was afraid I'd ruined it," he said. He took her hand in one of his.

The Tau'ka studied their linked hands. They both had long fingers- _characteristic of Air types_- but her hands were marks by years of combat and training, with callused palms and old blade scars, the hands of a warrior. His were pale-skinned and delicate, with signs of chemical spills.

_Two people, each so different,_ she mused_, but differences make us strong._

She leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling much better than she had in ages.

"Why are you so afraid of water?" Jekyll asked tentatively.

Daria made a face. "I was nearly drowned when I was little. It was part of a prank my older brothers were pulling. I certainly didn't find it funny." She sighed, letting herself relax against his shoulder, listening to his heartbeat. "One would think that after nearly forty-five years I'd get over it."

"Yes, one would… hang on." Jekyll looked down at her in surprise. "How old are you?"

"Sixty-seven," Daria murmured sleepily. "Why?"

Jekyll found himself at a loss for words. "I…" He smiled weakly. "Daria, you are one of the most… _extraordinary_ people I've ever met."

Hyde, however, seemed to be getting impatient with the small talk.

_Oh, for God's sake, Henry. Shut up and kiss her already!_

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

"So, Nemo said we got Skinner's signal back?" Sawyer asked as he followed Quatermain down the hall. "Where are we going?"

"Mongolia," the hunter replied. "By way of the Amur River. Nemo wanted me to tell everybody."

"Daria was supposed to be keeping an eye on the infirmary," Sawyer said helpfully. "Figured out anything else about M or the Hawks?"

Quatermain shook his head. "No. Miss Noclaf was gracious enough to lend me some of the files she has on the Black Hawks, however." He stopped in front of the infirmary door and put a hand on the knob. "They are a rather- good Lord."

He had just opened the door and was met with the sight of Daria and Jekyll, evidently no longer at odds with one another.

Sawyer leaned around the older hunter curiously. "Quatermain? What's going- whoa!"

Daria and Jekyll sprang apart at the sound of Sawyer's startled yelp, both blushing furiously. They both began to speak at once.

"Allan!"

"Nothing happened-!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Chaos and Fortune, can't you people make more _noise-_"

Quatermain waited patiently until the confused babbling died out. "We have picked up Skinner's signal again." he said blandly, as if nothing at all had happened. "We are heading for Mongolia. Captain Nemo has cold weather gear if you require it."

"Oh," Daria said weakly. "That's good…"

Sawyer was still staring as Quatermain turned to leave, shooing the young American out before him. The hunter paused in the doorway and looked back at Jekyll and Daria, both of whom were still bright red. He shook his head, smiling a bit. "And for God's sake, stop blushing. You look like a pair of guilty adolescents."


	28. Sensing His End

AN: Well, the last chapter went over better than I thought. Much better. Thanks to the wonderful reviews from **Sylence, Cranberries, Starry-Eyed Fool, Master of the Boot, Skunk and Hedgehog, Crys Evans, **and **Beebo**, I have crawled out from the shelter of my desk and have provided you with this week's update. Ejoy!

Note: Any questions, please send them to me. That is all.

Cheers, my wonderful freaky darlings!

Obi's Second Cousin

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Sensing His End

_The Mongolian Wastes_

Silent as a sea monster, the _Nautilus _cruised the water's surface along far-flung shorelines, and past the snowy land masses of Eastern Russia where fire lit port towns were visible on the horizon. Small fishing boats on the icy water never noticed the armored vessel that passed so close to them.

For a while, the ports that the _Nautilus _passed were substantial towns- the last pillars of civilization on the edge of primitive wastelands. As seen from the great ship, the architecture included Russian spires and touches of Japanese influence.

But as she passed further northward, the Sword of the Ocean left the towns behind in favor of rough-hewn wooded walls, stacked stones, woven roofs, and pointed arches, all covered by white snow.

Concerned about being seen as they drew near their quarry, Captain Nemo ordered the_ Nautilus _to submerge. It wouldn't be long now before the tracked Dorian Gray and his vile companions to their den.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Dawn broke on the Amur River, shedding a weak silvery light across a frigid, barren landscape on snow and gray rock. The only break in the monotonous waste was in the form of a few twisted, stunted trees that dotted the steppe.

Nothing alive was visible in any direction, except for a few ravens that had taken shelter in the scrub brush, too miserable to search for carrion.

A cracking sound came from the ice-covered Amur. It grew louder before erupting into a roar that shattered the stillness. The ravens, startled into flight, flew off croaking hoarsely.

The _Nautilus's_ reinforced conning tower burst through the ice and rose majestically into the air amid a shower of frigid water. As the vessel settled itself onto the surface, the upper hatch clanged out. Five people, all bundled in thick artic clothing, emerged, followed by a large quadruped never seen before by the inhabitants of the desolate region.

The wind whistling across the steppes carried a deep chill with it, but no amount of biting cold could bring a flush to Mina Harker's face as she looked out over the surroundings.

Skittish Jekyll slipped on the newly-frozen layer of ice that coated the upper deck. Quatermain caught him before he fell. "Careful, man," the hunter said sharply. "You wouldn't last a minute in water that cold." Jekyll looked over the edge, where the Amur knocked chunks of ice against the _Nautilus's_ armored side. He shuddered, inching away from the edge to stand closer to Daria. The shape-shifter raised one wing over his head, shielding him from the worst of the snow.

Nemo scanned the landscape through his binocular device. "According to my charts, we should be very near our destination."

Sawyer, Jekyll, and Mina shared a telescope that First Mate Patel had brought up for them. The doctor peered towards a distant rocky ridge. "Aren't the Fantom's manufactories over there?" he asked, struggling to hold the telescope steady in hands that trembled from the cold.

Nemo nodded. "We may have to set out overland."

Quatermain took the binoculars to see for himself, focusing on a collection of snow-covered rock piles and stripped logs that had at one point been a cluster of homes. "There are some deserted peasant settlements over there," he said.

Jekyll handed Mina the telescope and the vampiress trained it on the settlement Quatermain had noted. "Completely empty," she reported.

"Lookss habitable, though," the gryphon-shaped Daria added rearing onto her haunches to get a better look. "I would guesss that the village is situated on a trrade rroute of some kind, as they are sso closse to the river."

"Well, with a bit of fixing up," Sawyer agreed.

Mina returned her gaze to the village. "Still, why would an entire village be deserted?"

The answer came in the form of a fiery glow on the horizon.

"Fear, no doubt," Nemo said.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

The ice-covered steppes of Mongolia may have been a far cry from the veldt of Africa, but there was no questioning when Quatermain took charge of the expedition. Sawyer, Jekyll, and Mina trailed after him, trudging through the heavy blanket of snow and picking their way around slick ice and hidden rocks. Nemo brought up the rear with a squad of crewmen from the _Nautilus_, all well-armed and warmly dressed. Daria, preferring to rely on feathers than the bulky coats Nemo provided, wandered along the line, sometimes covering the rear, sometimes using her larger gryphon form to break a trail through the snow for the others. Together, the group ascended the steep hillside to the top of a rocky ridge that lay beyond the abandoned settlement, leaving the _Nautilus_ behind them.

One by one, the group struggled up through a windswept crack in the ridge. Sawyer politely helped Mina clamber up, despite the fact that her grip was a fair bit stronger than his. Their passage sent loose rocks tumbling down the slope, clattering as they rolled out of sight below.

Daria chirped at them from the top of the ridge. _I think that's it,_ she sent them all, preferring not to speak aloud over the rising wind. One or two of the crewmen jumped, unused to hearing the Tau'ka's voice in their heads. The rest of the League scrambled to the top and looked down into a broad valley to see a Cossack fortress, the lair of the Fantom and his compatriots.

It was an enormous, black basalt behemoth that lay before them, adorned with spiky black turrets and chimneys. Industrial fires belched smoke from these chimneys, indicating the location of M's smithies, foundries, and workshops.

"M's summer retreat," Sawyer said. "Can't say I care for the color. Let's get him."

"Unprepared and unplanned?" Quatermain shook his head, looking up at some thick gray clouds that heralded the approach of a storm. "No, lad. This is where Skinner signaled he'd meet us. So, we wait."

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Later, the League and Nemo's crew members gathered around a tiny campfire inside a rocky cave. Sawyer and several of the crew had volunteered to carry axes back to the empty village to scavenge firewood. With Daria's help, they had laboriously transported the wood back up to their makeshift shelter, providing the group with a very welcome source of heat and light. Mina made tea for them all as Quatermain took up a guard post at the mouth of the cave.

The group still inside waited, some talking among themselves. Daria made a point of curling herself around the shivering Jekyll, resting her beak on his knee. Anyone who seemed about to comment on the pair of them found themselves on the receiving end of a cold raptorial glare. Sawyer merely grinned at the Tau'ka and moved a little closer to Mina.

Allan Quatermain sat on a rock at the cave entrance and kept watch, ignoring both the cold and the driving snow. While M surely believed that the League were all dead, there was no point in taking chances so near his hideout. He hunched over his rock, Matilda the elephant gun leaning against him. He wasn't used to this sort of cold, and his age was showing because of his inability to adapt to it. Quatermain gritted his teeth and ignored his throbbing shoulder, waiting out the storm.

Half an hour or more passed before he heard the noise. Swift and silent, the hunter stripped off his mittens, dropped them to the grounds, and grabbed the elephant gun. He swept Matilda's barrel in a slow arc, peering through the blizzard. Quietly, he called out, "Skinner?"

Out of the swirling whiteness came something that most definitely was not the invisible man. An old tiger appeared, its white fur excellent camouflage against the snow. It was powerful, dangerous, a hunter out in the emptiness that was probably hungry enough to kill human prey. The magnificent cat was a bit too close for Quatermain's liking. Utterly silent, it did not growl as it moved through the snow.

Keeping his breaths steady and even, Quatermain locked eyes with the tiger. It paused in its advance, aware that it was not alone. The cat sniffed the air as more snow swirled around the hunters, locking them into a timeless moment, like a child's snow globe. Quatermain took aim, tentatively fingering the trigger.

He couldn't do it. He had faced many dangerous beasts before, but he felt that he and the tiger shared a kind of kinship. Perhaps, he thought, they were meant to meet here.

With a small sigh, Quatermain lowered the elephant gun, looked again into the tiger's eyes, and waited.

The tiger turned away and stalked back into the storm, seeking other prey.

Mina's voice drifted from the cave entrance. "We heard a noise."

Slightly startled, Quatermain turned to see her standing there beside Nemo and Daria. The captain, his scimitar at the ready, stared off into the darkness,

"It was nothing," the hunter told them.

"Just an old tiger sensing his end," Nemo said with eerie insight. He gestured to a trail of paw prints heading away into the snow.

Quatermain set his gun down and retrieved his mittens, pulling them back on over numb fingers. "Perhaps it isn't his time to die after all."

The pensive moment was broken when Mina stifled a cry as she was goosed from behind. She leapt awkwardly forward in alarm, skittering around while regaining her balance, then crouched to defend herself.

"Aheh! I've been waiting all week to do that," Skinner's voice said. A well-aimed swing from Daria knocked him into the snow, and she stood over him, hissing in only partially-feigned irritation.

"Well, 'ello to you too, luv," the invisible man said.

"Get a grip man," Quatermain said disgustedly.

"I thought I just did."

The Tau'ka brought her beak to within inches of where his face should be and growled dangerously.

"Let him up, Daria." the hunter ordered.

She stepped aside, the tip of her tail twitching.

"Never thought I'd get away from that blasted tiger," Skinner said as he got to his feet. "'E's been tracking me for a mile. Smelled me but couldn't see me. Heh!"

"Report," Nemo said, sheathing his scimitar. "Tell us everything you-"

"And 'ello to you to, my dear captain," the invisible thief interrupted. "Need I remind you that I am naked in the snow in this bloody freezing wasteland? I can't feel any of my extremities. _Any_ of them." He pushed his way into the cave, and the rest followed.


	29. Skinner's Report

AN: Heyla all! Time for the weekly post. You know, I think it says something about a person when there is an unexpected fire drill at school and the 3 things the person grabs are a sweatshirt, a book, and the glasses case that contains the reading glasses and the thumbdrive with all the fanfic on it… Anyway, that's my philosophical thought for the week, so now let's get on to the chapter!

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Skinner's Report

_The Mongolian Cave_

Skinner had wasted no time in getting himself dressed and warmed up. By the time he had gotten his makeup on, he may have looked like a frozen corpse, but he had stopped shivering, unlike Henry Jekyll.

"Ah, the things I do for the Empire," he said, deeply disappointed upon discovering that the group had long since finished the whiskey in Quatermain's hip flask.

Nemo was the first among them to demand answers. "So," he said. "If you weren't among the traitors, how is it you knew to follow Gray?"

"Heh! 'E was the only one creeping around as much as me." Skinner turned his ghostly-looking face towards Mina. "'E 'as quite a way with him, eh, Mina?"

She didn't answer, but Sawyer expressed indignation on her behalf. "So why didn't you just tell any of us?" he demanded.

Skinner actually snorted at the suggestion. "With all the suspicion on the ship, I knew you'd never believe I wasn't the spy. You've been such dear friends, after all, heh! So, I did what I'm good at. I thought it best to disappear and wait for the real traitor to show 'imself."

A low rumbling noise, like the purr of an enormous cat, filled the cave at that point, and the conversation stopped as all heads turned towards the source of the sound.

Jekyll snatched his hand back from where he had been tentatively scratching Daria's crest and feathered ears. The rumbling- the _purring_- ceased.

The shapeshifter tilted her head to look up at Jekyll. "You _sstopped_," she said plaintively, somehow managing to both look and sound extremely disappointed at the same time.

Chuckles broke out among the onlookers.

"You two are listening, yes?" Quatermain murmured. Daria nodded, then nudged Jekyll's hand with her beak for him to continue.

Mina's face remained hard as she looked back at Skinner across the fire. "Why not do something to the nautiloid?" she asked sharply. "It sounds as if you had plenty of opportunities."

"I'm invisible, not heroic," Skinner said.

Quatemain shifted in his seat, mentally reassessing everything they knew. "Skinner, we need your information. What are we dealing with? Tell us everything you saw and learned while you were out sight-seeing?"

"Sight-seeing?" the thief replied indignantly. "Why don't _you _try creeping around naked in the snow for 'ours?"

"That jusst soundss so _wrong_," Daria muttered before resuming her purring.

Skinner scowled at Quatermain's empty silver flask and grudgingly accepted a cup of tea in its place. "All right then, I'll describe everything for you best I can. That fortress is an awfully big place."

He described the facility's origins- it had originally been a Cossack fortress- briefly at Sawyer's request, then began telling them all of what he had seen inside it. From his descriptions, mental images of the massive forges, foundries, and factories within painted themselves in the League members' heads

"Worst of all," Skinner continued, "is the dry dock beneath the fortress. I saw M supervising laborers riveting 'ull plates in the diabolic 'eat and shadow. The vessels are still under construction, but soon M will have a fleet of submarine warships of his own."

"They've copied my _Nautilus_," Nemo said, looking pained.

"_Nautili_, actually," Skinner corrected. "Eight of them for now. But I'm sure 'e'll build more."

Even in the firelight, Sawyer's face was flushed with anger. "Nemo, can you fire rockets from your own ship, like you did in Venice? Blow that whole place to hell?"

"That hass it's merrits," Daria added. "I _like_ that idea."

But Nemo shook his head. "We are out of range, Mr. Sawyer. And all those people inside… surely some of them must be innocent slaves." The turbaned captain turned to Skinner. "What of the kidnapped scientists?"

"M holds their families hostage inside the fortress. The men are forced to work, or the women and children die. Very straightforward."

Nemo's face darkened in fury as the others made their anger known as well. He shook his head. "Monstrous. I see M has learned much from his barbaric predecessors."

"What of the two otherss you referred to?" Daria asked, raising her head up. "The Black Hawkss, K'wah and Koor?"

"The smaller one, Koor, I think-" Daria nodded at Skinner's tentative identification and continued, "- tends to be with M. They were always cooking up some dastardly plot or another."

"And K'Wah?" she prompted. "What of him?"

"'E makes 'imself more of a menace, especially among the laborers. I saw him actually kill one who wasn't working fast enough. 'E shape-shifted, just like you do. Tore the poor bloke's throat right out."

Daria made a pained sound in her throat, and her talons gouged deep marks in the cave floor. "I expected as much," she said. "He wass always the more sadisstic of the two." She looked over the rest of the League. "No matter what, K'Wah isss _mine,_" she said forcefully. Her teammates nodded solemnly.

Skinner rubbed his unseen hands together. "That isn't the 'alf of it," he said. "M isn't just mechanically inclined when 'e designs new weapons. 'E uses biology as well. 'E's forcing the captive scientists to work night and day- to make new versions of _us_. As if one of me wasn't enough."

"What do you mean?" Quatermain asked.

"You should see the chemicals and substances 'e's producing. All distilled from our best- aheh!- traits. 'E will create invisible spies, an army of Hydes, vampiric assassins, perhaps even a couple of Tau'ka… and send them all off to wage way in a fleet of unstoppable submersibles. Delightful, isn't it?"

Jekyll knotted his hands together, face sinking in dismay. "I won't let my evil infect the world."

"Think any of us feel differently?" Mina demanded.

Sawyer was getting impatient. "I'm just tired of sitting here in the cold, when we know M is just over there all cozy inside his fortress. What are we going to do?"

"We put an end to him," Nemo replied with a cold, quiet force in his voice.

Skinner, at least, continued to think pleasant thoughts. "Chimney pipes lace the buildings, factories, and foundries- so a few well-placed bombs in the furnaces would make quite a bang." He chuckled. "I know the way down, and I am the least likely to be seen."

"Skinner," Quatermain said, giving the thief a sly grin. "I didn't know you were such a bare-faced liar. All this time, declaring that you weren't a here."

"Shut up, or I'll come to my senses." Skinner actually seemed to be embarrassed. "Besides," he added, "Any more like me and I lose the franchise."

Tom Sawyer picked up his Winchester rifle, cocked it, and stood, ready to go. "That man killed Huck Finn. I'm not gonna let that pass. He's mine."

Quatermain reluctantly put a hand on the rifle barrel, forcing Sawyer to lower it. "This cannot be a hunt to the death, lad," he said quietly, "More's the pity. We must take M alive if his secrets are to be uncovered."

"Not Gray, though," Mina interrupted, her green eyes glinting ferally in the firelight. "He's lived long enough."

"I'll handle him-" Sawyer jumped at the chance, but she shook her head.

"No. Dorian is my business."

The American nodded grimly.

The storm outside seemed to be lessening, but their work had just begun. "M decided that he could use our particular abilities to help him wage war," Quatermain said. "It's time we demonstrate just how right he is. Only _we'll_ be waging war on _him_."

"Right!" Sawyer said as he shouldered his Winchester. "If we work together, getting into that fortress should be a piece of cake."

Quatermain strode to the cave opening and led the way out. "The hunt is on."


	30. The League as a Team

AN: Heyla all! I hope everyone who celebrated it had a great Thanksgiving and ate way too much turkey and good stuff without bothering to look at a scale! Here's this week's post for y'all.

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Chapter Thirty: The League is a Team

_M's Fortress_

With the first light of morning dazzling on the fresh snow, a Mongolian guard stood vigil at the foot of the black fortress. He had dark eyes, a long drooping mustache, and stiff leather armor that kept out arrows and knife blades, but not the cold. He carried a sleek new-design automatic weapon from the master's arsenal.

When he stamped his feet, the iron nails of his boot soles rang on the stone path. His toes were numb, and his head pounded from the effects of too much drink the night before. Though no enemy had crossed the empty, windswept wasteland in recent memory, he stood at his post and kept guard.

He would rather face an onrushing horde alone than incur the Fantom's anger. The masked man and his accomplices were demons, the stuff of nightmares.

The guard was stationed at the opening to a roaring meltwater sluice that was fed by the storage tanks inside that held water to cool the products of the forges. The air was bitterly cold, and the spray from the surging water rimmed the fortress's dark stones with thick frost and coated the walkway with a treacherous film of ice.

One of his fellow guards took up a post deeper inside the sluice tunnel, where the rushing water mad the cold air clammy and the stone walls slimy. At least here, outside the fortress walls, the air was clear and fresh. Two other guards were stationed on a walkway one floor above them, patrolling dutifully in the cold.

The guard at the entrance scanned the open, rocky landscape all around, dazzled by the white glare. Then he saw two figures in the distance, black shapes: a woman and… something massive. He frowned, stroking one end of his ice-covered mustache, then called to his partner deeper inside the tunnel.

Oddly, he saw another pair of footprints much closer in the fresh snow. They came all the way up to the sluice gate, and they looked to be made by bare feet.

Though the guard saw no one, he heard a noise. "Who's there?" he said warily, raising his high-tech rifle and scanning for any target within range.

Suddenly, something yanked the long gun right out of his hand. The guard stared at it for a second as it floated in mid-air, then snatched for the barrel. The weapon danced out of his reach, turned itself around, and smashed into his face.

"Night-night."

Responding to his partner's call, a second guard came running out of the dark tunnel. He spotted his unconscious comrade, skittered to a halt, and stared. Before he understood what he was seeing, he let out a yell that was lost in the roar of the water.

His warning cry became a squeak as he became aware of something _huge_. There was a roar of challenge, and a flash of a massive arm reaching for him.

Terrified, the guard scrambled back into the sluice and ran toward the end of the tunnel until he reached a bolted gate. He dragged at the heavy iron pin, struggling to open the barrier.

A moment later, Edward Hyde loomed behind him and let out a low, rumbling growl. He reached out to grasp both the hapless guard and the metal grating in one enormous fist and wrenched the sluice open. The guard broke before the latch did, and the screams abruptly ceased.

Back outside, the two guards looked over the edge of the walkway in search of the source of the noise. They called out to the unconscious guard and failed to notice the large shape rapidly approaching from the air above and behind them. A soft thump behind them alerted them to the danger, but too late.

A set of long talons raked across the back of one guard and sent him tumbling to the stone pathway below with a crunch. The second guard turned and found himself face-to-beak with a vicious-looking gryphon. He scrambled to raise his own rifle, but the claws lashed out again, neatly slicing across the hapless man's throat.

In the tunnel, Hyde tore the gate free and threw barrier and guard alike aside. Then he turned and bellowed for the others to catch up.

At the top of the sluice tubes, deeper inside the fortress factory, another guard turned from his station upon hearing the awful cries of his fellows. He felt a greater uneasiness when the screams stopped. With wide eyes adjusted to the torchlit gloom of the tunnels, he peered down the sluice hole.

He caught a frantic rustling, the creaking of leathery wings, and a high-pitched squeaking and buzzing that lay just beyond his ability to hear. His breath caught in his throat as he realized something was coming down the tunnel- and coming fast.

The guard scrambled backwards as a black storm of flying creatures erupted through a hole in a tornado of thin shrieks, sharp claws, and beating wings. Bats, he realized. Hundreds of them.

And in the center of the swarm, he saw a whirling _thing_ with piercing red eyes. He screamed, but he was trapped inside the crowded tunnel with nowhere to run.

The bats enveloped the guard.

When the dispersed, the man's skin was a chalky, cadaverous white, all pricked and punctured by scores of tiny teeth. His throat had been torn out entirely, and an expression of horror had frozen on his face.

Mina Harker stood and wiped blood from her mouth, then adjusted her scarf and waited for the others to catch up.

The click of talons on stone announced Daria's arrival. She peered at the crushed remains of the guard Hyde had mangled and winced, primly sidestepping the mess. "Did you have to _ssquish_ him?" she asked critically.

Hyde merely nodded as the others hurried in.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Having successfully breached the fortress's outer defenses, the League gathered in a vast hallway with silent granite walls. The place spoke of brute-force grandeur, of majesty without finesse. Brooding statues of Cossack warriors stood along the corridor, petrified guardians carved full of intimidations. The place was fully large enough for a gryphon to fly in.

Tom Sawyer stared around, open-mouthed. He almost whistled in awe, but caught himself just in time. He and his companions moved quietly ahead, backed up by the group of armed crewmen from the _Nautilus_.

Quatermain once again fit his role of the great white hunter, carrying Matilda over one shoulder, a Winchester over the other, and a Bowie knife on his belt. When they reached an intersection of large corridors, he stopped for a moment to listen down the halls. Without speaking, he gestures to Skinner, asking for directions.

The invisible man indicated that Hyde, Daria, Nemo, and the crewmen should take the main artery, Mina a side corridor, and Quatermain and Sawyer a third hall. Quatermain nodded, and the three groups separated.

Before they could move away, though, the League members all paused and turned back briefly to look at each other, as if fearing that this might be the last time they would ever be together. They suddenly seemed to be of one mind.

Hyde extended his massive hairy hand. Quatermain, without hesitation, placed his hand on top. Mina, Daria, Sawyer, Nemo, and finally Skinner, all did the same.

They may have been a League before; now they were truly a team.


	31. I Call It Sport

AN: Ah, cue the insanity of writing half a dozen scenes at once! At last, we are in M's fortress. This means I'd better go get working on Seven of Spades so I can get it up for you when the time comes.

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Chapter Thirty-One: I Call it Sport

_M's Fortress_

Reaching an echoing mezzanine on whisper-quiet footsteps, Quatermain and Sawyer crept past rows of roughly shaped pillars. Beyond them, an expansive laboratory was filled with chemistry apparatus, crackling electrical devices, bubbling flasks and beakers. There, the miserable kidnapped scientists worked under armed guard.

The walls of the laboratory were covered with chalkboards which were, in turn, covered with furiously scribbled and often erased sketches and equations. Surly-looking guards holding the Fantom's sophisticated firearms kept watch over their charges, although the sentries seemed to have no interest in the science itself.

Sawyer made a move towards the laboratories at the sight of the wretched scientists, but Quatermain held him back. "They are for Nemo to take care of," he hissed to the younger man.

They crept forward to get a better look. Sawyer pointed towards the far side of the mezzanine, where the loudest sounds and thickest smoke seemed to be coming from. The factory floor below was filled with hundreds of Mongolian workers, either slaves or sluggish laborers, who operated machines and presses. Hissing steam boiled out of jets, drenching the sulfur-scented air with moisture as sparks flew from grinders that shaped components for M's war machines. A foreman up in a caged control room barked orders in Mongolian over a tinny-sounding electronic loudspeaker.

"Do you understand what he's saying?"

Quatermain shook his head. "At least he's not raising the alarm. Come on, this way." He moved out.

Sawyer shrugged and grinned. "You lead, I'll follow." He crept after Quatermain in a stealthy crouch. They moved on together, unnoticed.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

The prison passage, in marked contrast to the bustling factory floor, was silent and empty. They guards stationed there were bored and sleepy; they did not realize the emergency until it was too late.

Before they could call for help, Hyde had punched them both and flung them against a far wall. They could hardly muster a whimpering groan as they slumped to the floor, completely unconscious.

Hyde strode forward with a lurching, stalking gait, forced to duck his massive head beneath a low ceiling. In his wake, Captain Nemo and several armed crewmen entered the passage and approached the heavy iron floor grates. Daria came last, constantly looking around for any signs of trouble, her ears pricked forward.

Nemo motioned the fearsome Hyde back as he crouched on the grate and peered into the dungeons below. He saw the hopeful faces of hostages turned up to look at him.

"These must be the scientist's wives and children," he said. In a flash of memory, he thought of his own wife and son, both tragically killed. His fingers clenched, and he had to force those thoughts away. Nemo called upon his philosophy and his prayers, just to make his heart go numb and his past go blank once more.

Daria leaned past the captain and looked into the dungeons, muttering something incomprehensible.

Nemo put a finger to his lips and the hostages inside fell quiet, stifling their confusion and joy at the prospect of escape. "We will rescue you," he said. "Do not be frightened." He signaled for Hyde to come forward, and as the brutish man's shadow fell over the grate, Nemo raised a hand to calm the captives. "Do not be frightened of _him_."

The rescuers stood back to give Hyde room to work. Jekyll's monstrous alter ego bent over the grates and wrapped both of his hands around them. He strained against them for a moment.

With a screeching groan, the metal grate tore free, showering the prisoners with powdered mortar and stone. Hyde lifted the heavy bars over his head and made as if to hurl them down the tunnel, but Nemo stepped in front of him and gestured for silence. Disappointed, Hyde set the grate down with a thud on the tunnel floor.

At Nemo's encouraging gesture, the first captive climbed out of the cell. She was soon followed by the rest of the terrified prisoners. "You are free now," Nemo said. "However, you are not yet safe."

He, Hyde, and Daria kept watch as the _Nautilus _crewmen guided the escapees down the echoing tunnels. One by one, the captives climbed out of the cell, blinking and frightened.

A mousy-looking German scientist, disheveled and desperate, clambered out of the pit and clutched the sleeve of Nemo's uniform. "Please, sir," he begged. "He has my daughter. That horrible Fantom- he took Eva!"

Daria recognized the man from the files that M had given them all. The German scientist was Karl Draper, an architectural engineer who had been kidnapped from the Valkyrie Zeppelin Works near Hamburg. "We will do all we can to find herrr," she said, dipping her head slightly.

The engineer's eyes widened at the sight of the gryfalcon and trembled, gripping Nemo's uniform sleeve more tightly.

Nemo sternly pried his fingers loose. "If she is here in the fortress, we shall bring her to you," he promised. "Now go with the others and get away from this place."

Though the group was large, they moved like wraiths down the narrow passage back towards the sluice gate- and their escape. Glancing over his shoulder for reassurance, Karl Draper scuttled after them. Hyde looked at the German scientist and sniffed derisively, as if Draper reminded him of Henry Jekyll. The doctor himself refused to make a comment.

None of the three noticed one of the stunned guards recovering. Slumped against the wall where Hyde had thrown him, the guard stifled a groan. His head hurt, his jaw felt as if it had been knocked halfway around his head… not so different from a typical hangover.

But when he opened his eyes he was confused by all the people and the noise outside the prison pit. Next to him, his partner lay crumpled, still out cold. Then he saw Hyde, a misshapen anthropoid monster, and Daria, a horse-sized, vicious-looking predator, standing next to the torn metal grate while the last of the prisoners fled down the corridor.

So the guard did the only thing that was to be reasonably expected of him under such circumstances.

Even before his focus and balance had entirely returned, the guard let out a yelping scream, stumbled to his feet, and turned to run.

Hyde grunted in surprise and turned his coal-black eyes to see the man running away. Reacting the fastest, Daria squawked indignantly and galloped after the fleeing guard. Nemo, also startled, followed close on her heels, but the frantic guard raced down the halls in an absolute panic, bleating for help like a terrified sheep. His wailing shouts echoed back down the passages in warning. Nemo didn't need to translate the Mongolian words to understand their meaning.

Daria sprang after the guard, but missed as he ducked down into a passageway too small for her to enter. Trying not to hit the wall herself, she skidded to a halt, talons scrabbling on the stone floor and wings flailing, and swore angrily before proceeding to preen a few errant feathers. Her entire manner was one of 'You did not just see me mess up.'

The captain came back down the passageway, panting a little from the effort and adjusting his blue turban. "We have trouble," he said.

"Trouble?" Hyde replied with a twisted grin. His eyes lit up in anticipation as he cracked his knuckles. "I'd call it… sport."

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Inside the foundry, workers and guards labored in the intense heat and spraying sparks. Despite the flaring light of molten metal and furnace fires, there were still enough shadows to offer hiding places, if necessary.

Not that an invisible man needed shadows.

A hot spark flicked through the air and settled on his bare skin. Skinner snuffed it out, restraining his reaction to a mere hiss. It gave him all the more incentive to blow this whole place to Kingdom Come.

His invisible hands held three bombs that seemed to glide through the smoky air of their own accord. He made his way behind the largest furnace and planted the first bomb at the base of the hot brick structure. Skinner hid the explosive carefully and set the timer, already thinking of the best places to install the other two bombs.

One of the guards looked up, thinking he had heard an amused chuckle and skipping footsteps that moved out of the foundry at a rapid pace. But he saw nothing, so he turned to shout orders at his workers again.


	32. Hawks and Fantoms

AN: Happy December to everyone!

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Chapter Thirty-Two: Hawks and Fantoms

_M's Private Parlor_

Moving with all possible stealth, Quatermain and Sawyer left the dirty industrial floors of the fortress and entered brighter, well-lit corridors with fine furnishings and clean white walls. It was in this area that the two men hoped to find M.

They approached a set of opulent doors. Sawyer tested the scrolled golden handles and found the doors unlocked. With barely a click, the opened and swung inward silently. Sawyer poked his head inside and stared in astonishment.

M's sumptuous private dwelling contained a vast bed, paintings, vases, a red crushed-velvet divan, and fresh flowers and fruit that must have been worth more than gold in this isolated winter landscape. In the room's adjoining temple-like bathing area, a warm-flowing fountain bath spilled a steaming cascade into a marble tub.

Quatermain waved his companion to utter silence as they entered, guns leading, alert for anything. The younger man wrinkled his nose at the perfumes in the air. The hideous masked "Fantom" had not seemed like the sort of man to enjoy a long scented bath…

A human-shaped shadow flitted behind a painted silk screen in an adjacent side chamber. Quatermain froze, but the figure did not come closer. The two men had not been seen, and the sloshing sound of the waterfall bath muffled their approach. Together, they advanced toward the chamber door.

As the old adventurer reached for the door of the side chamber, the handle turned before he could touch it. He and Sawyer flung themselves into a nearby alcove and flattened themselves against the wall.

The door open, and a lovely young woman stepped out, her gaze fixed forward. She had long, straw-blond hair that hung straight and limp, as if she had long ceased caring for it. Her loose gown was pale blue and would have been beautiful if she didn't wear it like a burial shroud. Like a sleepwalker, she drifted wide-eyed and dazed past the two men in the alcove.

Quatermain recognized her from a sepia-tone photograph in the files M himself had provided- theoretically to help them track down the Fantom. Despite M's arrogance, the hunter did not doubt the authenticity of the information. The dazed woman in blue was Eva Draper, the daughter of the kidnapped Karl Draper so recently set free with the assistance of other League members.

When Eva had gone, the two men slipped out of their hiding place and ducked into M's parlor to look around, ready for anything. Sawyer held his Winchester in a tight grip, eager to start shooting.

The Fantom's silver mask lay on a table, reflecting the candlelight.

Quatermain heard a noise- low conversation- from across the room in an antechamber. He hesitated for a moment, then crept forward so that he could see the angled reflection of an ornate mirror. He got Sawyer's attention, and both of them watched.

The mirror's image showed the antechamber, where a fastidiously dressed valet was calmly shaving M, who lounged at his ease in a large chair. M seemed completely relaxed as the man stroked his cheek with a gleaming silver razor. The valet scraped away another swath of white cream as Sawyer and Quatermain watched. He knew it would mean his life if he so much as nicked his leader's skin.

The Fantom's lieutenant, Dante, strode into the parlor, carrying a bulky leather satchel similar to Jekyll's own medical case. He was closely followed by a thin, dark haired man wearing an ornately embroidered shirt. Light glinting off of brilliantly green eyes provided all the identification Quatermain needed- this was one of the Black Hawk brothers Daria was supposed to stop.

Quatermain and Sawyer pressed themselves further into the shadows as Dante and the Hawk walked past, but the lieutenant and the alien were intent upon M.

As the valet continued to work, Dante set the leather satchel on a table. "James, here's your box of tricks," he said, "I think you'll find everything you need inside." He opened the case, tilting it to show M the contents.

M sat up, his close-set eyes vulture-like as his lieutenant displayed each item like a snake-oil salesman displaying his wares. "The brute's potion," Dante said triumphantly, "The vampire's blood, the Indian's science, mounted samples of invisible skin, and blood and technology from the alien." He lifted liquid-filled vials, scraps of bloodstained fabric, bits of ceramic, daguerreotypes, microscope slides, and rolled-up technical plans. "No matter what else happens, you will have the most vital components, sir."

The Tau'ka didn't seemed to be as pleased as M and Dante. "You collected from Daria?" he wanted to know.

"Of course," M replied offhandedly. "She had a great deal to contribute, after all, K'Wah."

K'Wah frowned. "That was not part of our deal," he growled. "You said you would put her in a situation where she would be killed, not become part of your little insect collection." The candlelight glinted off of his eyes as he gazed coldly at the mastermind. "I think you forget who holds the power here, M. If it weren't for myself and Koor, you would be in prison now, if not thoroughly dead."

"Plans change."

"You are meddling in things far larger than yourself!" the Tau'ka snapped. "If you-"

Before he could continue, a ragged-looking guard burst in. "Intruders! An Indian and two monsters!" he babbled in broken English. He reeled unsteadily, holding his head as if he had just awakened from a bad dream or groggy unconsciousness. "The prisoners are escaping!"

M groaned. "How many times must I kill these cretins?" He knew that if Nemo and Hyde -and presumably Daria Noclaf from the description- were here causing trouble, the rest of the League would, in all likeliness, be inside the fortress too. He turned to Dante, who could already see annoyance building to rage on his leader's face. The threat in M's cold voice seemed directed as much at Dante as at the intended victims. "Make this the last time," he ordered. "Be certain of it."

Dante rushed out as the first shouts and sounds of battle echoed from the factory levels far below, leaving the leather satchel behind.

"I would thank you not to refer to Daria as a 'cretin', M," K'Wah said coldly. "Traitor to her own people or not, she is far more than you could ever hope to be." The alien's voice contained a derisive sneer that was all-too apparent.

"Either way, she will be dead soon," M replied.

"You seem to be forgetting that she and the rest of your so-called "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" have proven to be remarkably resourceful when faced with certain death. And if a sinking submarine fails to kill a _Tau'ka_, what makes you think that any of your primitive soldiers will be able to do any better?"

M glared at his colleague. It seemed to be slowly dawning on him that he operated at the Tau'ka's sufferance, and he didn't seemed to be too pleased with that revelation. "My forces are the most advanced the world has seen. Daria Noclaf and the others will die, and you will uphold your end of our deal."

"And if you have reneged on your own side?" K'Wah asked in a mild tone that in no way hid his contempt for M. "Not that I didn't expect such behavior from a _human_."

He didn't give M a chance to reply. The Tau'ka simply turned on his heel and strode out of the rooms, once again not giving any sign that he saw Quatermain and Sawyer in their hiding place.

Alone now, the freshly shaved M moved to the table, pulled on his jacket, and reached for his silver Fantom's mask, ready for the show. He picked up the metallic mask and glimpsed a distorted, moving reflection. He froze as a long gun barrel pressed against the back of his head.

"Don't move, M" Quatermain growled from behind him.

Tom Sawyer stepped around the corner, also leveling his Winchester and the mastermind. He looked plenty ready to use it. "You killed Huck Finn."

Caught in the line of fire, M froze, looking at both men as if they were large sewer rats that had found their way into a garden party. "Huck? Who?"

"Agent Huck Finn of the American Secret Service."

The mastermind shrugged. "I've killed so many people. I can't be expected to remember them all."

"Perhaps we can offer you a reminder," M." Quatermain stepped around, leaning closer and holding the cadaverous man in his hunter's gaze. "Or would you prefer that we call you _…Professor?_ Professor James Moriarty."

Sawyer caught a breath, recognizing the name. "You mean… the man who killed Sherlock Holmes?"

M was inwardly shocked and furious that Quatermain had figured out his real identity. "Holmes," he growled. "Yes, I suppose you would have wanted him as part of your League, as well. As if even Holmes could have helped you!"

When he turned to look at them, the mastermind showed them a feral, calculating personality. Wanton. Spiteful. _Professor James Moriarty_.

Moriarty thought back to the rush of water like deadly white hammers, pounding over the sheer rocky walls. Reichenbach Falls, in Switzerland. A narrow path, slippery with spray, wound up the side of a cliff to the edge of the thundering cascade.

His archenemy Holmes had gotten there first- had been _lured_ there- and stood just upslope wearing his dark green jacket, yellow vest, and trademark deerstalker cap. He carried an alpenstock walking stick but no other weapon, though he must have known that he would be in for the fight of his life. He seemed not at all surprised to see Moriarty there.

"Well, here we are then," Moriarty had said, facing his nemesis. His red-lined black cape flapped dramatically in the cold, wet breezes from the waterfall.

Holmes had agreed. "Indeed. As closing acts go, I'll allow the scenery is more than adequate."

"Why, sir, it is Olympian! We tread the very borders of mythology!"

"I think you flatter the both of us." Holmes had not been impressed by the display. As usual, he had cut to the chase. "I'm tired with talk, Professor. So, then. To the death?"

"Oh, yes. Yes, absolutely."

They had struggled on the edge of the falls, Moriarty with a gold-hilted dagger, Holmes with his bare hands. But Holmes, cursed Holmes, had caught Moriarty's wrist, knocked the dagger free, and made them both fall over the ledge, where the professor had tumbled into the torrent of smothering spray… taking a long, wrenching plunge that had ended in sucking whirlpools, surging water, hard bone-breaking rocks, and the sight of a pair of rushing bronze wings…

He had emerged alive after all, rescued by a pair of associates, but irrevocably changed.

"You name me James Moriarty? The so-called Napoleon of Crime?" M took a step closer to Quatermain, who did not move. Sawyer loudly cocked his Winchester to remind M of just who was in charge of the situation, but the sound went unheeded. "No, Mr. Quatermain- that man died at the Reichenbach Falls. He died, and _I_ was reborn. M. The Fantom. More than mere Moriarty ever was… and more than you'll ever be." He sneered. "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen! Ha!"

"He does like the sound of his own voice." Quatermain said to Sawyer.

At that moment, Eva Draper rushed into the room, blond hair in disarray, and charged at Moriarty. She held a dagger in her hand, and she was shouting angrily in German at the mastermind.

Sawyer swung his Winchester aside, startled by the intrusion. Quatermain lifted a hand to stop the young woman's attack. "It's all right," he said. "We have him-"

But Eva threw herself at her captor. Grateful for the distraction, Moriarty knocked the girl aside and snatched up his box of tricks. Quatermain lunged after him, giving chase, but when Moriarty reached the door, he whirled and flung a stiletto. The blade flashed through the air.

Sawyer tackled Quatermain to the floor, saving his life as the slim knife stuck into the wall. He grinned at the astonished expression on the hunter's face. "Eyes open, old boy. I can't protect you all the time."


	33. He's What?

AN: I apologize for not getting this out yesterday- I had a whole whack of other things I had to do. Here is this week's chapter. I hope you all enjoy it, and I hope I won't be getting any nasty letters for missing yesterday's post.

Please note that I will not be posting on December 25. I will give you guys Chapter 34 on the 26th. Happy Chrisma-hanna-kwanza-dan and Yule to everyone!

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Chapter Thirty-Three: He's What???

_M's Fortress_

The Fantom's armed guards raced toward a corner of a low stone passage. Some carried high-tech automatic firearms; others wielded heavy Mongolian swords.

Instead of attacking the infiltrators, though, these guards were running _away_ at top speed.

Gunfire cracked, and the men screamed and fled faster, fearing Nemo's crewmen behind them. They raced away, never realizing that they were running straight for something worse.

Ahead of them, the passageway opened onto a T-shaped intersection. The guards could run right or left. Neither option would be beneficial to their health, for one direction was guarded by Daira Noclaf, and the other by Edward Hyde.

Fists clenched, the broad-shouldered, brutish Hyde stood blocking his passage. He grinned, showing crooked teeth. All around him on the floor lay the broken bodies of his earlier victims.

The guards scrambled to a halt. Some turned, running into the men behind them. But they could not go back, either, for they were met by a blur of blows from Captain Nemo's hands and feet.

Hyde came after them from the rear, swinging his fists like big mallets. He chuckled.

Meanwhile, the guards who had chosen the other passage were wishing they hadn't after seeing what awaited them there. Knifelike talons and a murderous beak made fairly short work of any who came too close. Despite the carnage, Daria chose to strike for the weapons first. Any who surrendered after having their gun or sword knocked from their hands by the alien shapeshifter was allowed to leave. Any who resisted tended to find out what the claws were actually _for_.

She finished her work and joined Nemo and Hyde in the main passageway in time to hear the captain demanding to know the location of the kidnapped scientists while kicking and pummeling anything that got in his way until it was senseless. Sooner or later, one of the guards was sure to talk before falling into unconsciousness.

"You can tell him… or tell _me!_" Hyde roared. "_Where are they?_"

"I ssuggest you tell the man in the turban," Daria added, casually clawing at a guard who came within easy reach. The man screamed as he tried to hold his lacerated shoulder together when she let him go.

Resistance quickly ceased. Nemo soon learned where to lead his men.

When they reached the mezzanine, Hyde casually punched open a heavy iron door with repeated blows that sounded like strikes on a gong. The metal barrier bent and twisted away as he tore it from its hinges. As soon as the opening was wide enough, Nemo and his crewmen burst through, heading for a laboratory and the imprisoned weapons scientists.

Opposite them, Dante rushed down a steep stone staircase leading a cadre of hand-picked henchmen, who ran in lockstep. The Fantom's lieutenant saw the infiltrators and instantly barked a command. "There they are! Shoot! Full automatic fire!"

With their new-model repeating rifles, M's henchmen locked their weapons and opened fire, strafing the area around the _Nautilus_ crewmen. Bullets ricocheted off the floor and walls and sang thought the air, flashing sparks. Ducking for whatever shelter they could find, the crewmen drew their own weapons and returned the compliment.

Daria yelped as several projectiles came far too near for comfort. She dove for cover, shifting back to her smaller humanoid form as she did to make a smaller target.

Two of Nemo's crewmen fell with mortal wounds, either from ricochets or intentional fire. A bullet cracked into the wall less than an inch from the captain's turban. "We are too vulnerable here!" he shouted. "There is no cover!"

Hyde growled as if a swarm of gnats was annoying him. He snatched up the fallen iron door and raised it to protect the crew. Snarling, he held the metal sheet up as a shield and listened to the hailstorm of bullets that rang against it.

Nemo touched the bodies of his two fallen comrades, searching for a pulse. Finding none, his expression darkened further.

First Mate Patel and another of the _Nautilus_ men moved closer behind Hyde so they could fire around the edge of the door-shield. Daria, who currently carried no firearm, contented herself with telekinetically yanking a rifle out of the hands of one of the henchmen and knocking its previous owner about the head and shoulders with it. Across the open expanse, Dante dove for cover himself, and three of his men died in the crossfire. Their bodies tumbled from the staircase down to the factory floor below.

"_Hold your fire!_"

The voice rang out across the mezzanine like a cannon going off. Everything went silent in its wake.

A new man was striding down the staircase with a quick, almost stalking gait. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried a sword in his right hand.

The newcomer slid his penetrating peridot gaze across the combatants. "Where is Daria?" he growled. "I would fight her."

The Tau'ka tensed slightly. She drew her own blade and stepped out from behind Hyde.

"I accept," she said formally, locking eyes with her challenger. "I claim death-duel."

"Who is that?" Nemo asked.

Daria gave a short, cold laugh. "That," she said as she glared at the man on the staircase, her voice somewhere in the vicinity of absolute zero. "That would be my brother."


	34. We'll Be at This All Day

AN: A Merry (belated) Christmas to all! Here's this week's post.

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Chapter Thirty-Four: We'll be at this all day

_M's Fortress_

"Your _brother?_" Nemo exclaimed, not entirely certain he had heard correctly.

"I've heard of sibling rivalry," Hyde put in, eyeing the Black Hawk coldly. "But that's ridiculous. You got the looks, though."

"Thanks, I think," Daria said wryly. She walked forward and jumped up to the upper level, landing with catlike ease on the stairs. "Why don't we take this elsewhere, K'Wah?" Though her words were polite, there was a steely coldness in her voice.

K'Wah gave her a mocking little bow. "Of course, dear sister." The irony was so thick that Nemo could have cut it with his sword. The male Tau'ka waved the way into a side chamber. Daria went in, and her brother looked back at Dante.

"I am not interested in the humans," he said. "Kill them all." K'Wah turned on his heel and went into the side chamber.

The shooting resumed with all of its previous fury. Several bullets hit crucial gauges and spinning components in the industrial equipment. Shrapnel buzzed and bounced. Another of the Fantom's henchmen fell with a startled cry, headfirst, into a fabrication machine, shattering its front panels.

Steam built up from the machine regulators that had been shot away in the gunfire. Whistling pressure grew unbearable, screaming through relief valves that were too small to bring the desperately needed relief- until finally two of the large tanks exploded in unison. The destruction sent clouds of steam gushing out like a fountain.

As the chaos increased, several fuel barrels ignited. Flames followed waves of spilling flammable fluid. On the factory floor, teams of workers and armed guards alike lost their nerve and fled in every direction.

Defined briefly by a shower of sparks, Skinner shrieked, caught in the stampede as he planted another bomb under a fuel stack. "God," he muttered to himself. "This 'ero lark is touch and go. Heh!"

The invisible man had to admit, though, that this was quite the little party.

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In his sumptuous private room supplied by M, Dorian Gray packed his case with the barest of necessities for a long trip. He could always buy the essentials- both legal and illegal- en route. It was a long way back to London and civilization, but he could make do.

Still, he abhorred being uncomfortable.

His bulky framed picture leaned against one wall, wrapped and bound up in burlap. It would be a pain to carry. Gray couldn't see the image on the portrait, though he could imagine his corrupted features, the weeping sores, the leprous face and age-withered skin. His immortality spell would be broken if he gazed on the painting, but he had no particular interest in seeing it. He would rather look in a mirror.

He smiled and did just that, fixing his hair and adjusting his collar. All ready to go. Gray snapped his travel case shut and moved to pick up his wrapped picture.

Far below in the fortress Gray heard the sound of gunfire, explosions, shouts of alarm, running feet, even a monstrous roar and piercing shriek. He shook his head. More of M's antics, convoluted plans, and whatnot. The leader made world domination into such a complicated and undesirable prospect, no doubt egged on by the two strangers who seemed to accompany him everywhere these days. M and the Hawks were perfectly welcome to all the woes associated with such unhealthy ambitions.

A dark wraith passed silently behind him, and he sensed it with a shiver. Hearing the whisper of a noise, Gray whirled.

Mina Harker stood there, spectral and vampiric in the gloom, green eyes blazing. She held a knife in her hand, stroking the razor edge with a fingertip.

"Hello, lover," she said, voice like the purr of a hungry lioness.

"You're alive," said Gray. He dropped his travel case and let the framed painting lean against the stone wall. Then he smoothly drew his cane-sword.

"I'm a vampire- part of me, at least," Mina replied coldly. "No matter what some traitor does to me, it's possible I can't die." She smiled, revealing her sharp fangs. "The same could be said of you, Dorian." She stepped forward, never letting her gaze waver. "Let's put it to the test."

With a feral snarl, she leaped at him, knife in one hand, claws extended on the other. Gray raised his cane-sword just in time and parried, whipping the slim blade through the air. Her dagger clanged against it. Again and again, knife clashed against sword. The flushes rising on the faces of the two immortal opponents came more from emotions than they did from the battle itself.

"It seems the League does not consider me much of a threat," Gray said as he blocked another slash. "They send a woman to fight me?"

"I'm nothing if not emancipated. Besides, the others are busy."

Mina drove him backward, and he tripped on his travel case. But Gray sprang back to his feet and jumped to the top of a table, kicking away the remains of his afternoon snack. She ducked the flying utensils even as he continued their bitter conversation.

"Join me in London, Mina. Give in to your demons." Gray leaped backwards to the floor, landing perfectly. "We'll be a league of two. Just you and me."

"In your dreams," Mina snapped, springing over the table at him.

Gray slashed again with his sword. "I don't dream. My body doesn't require sleep."

"You can sleep when you're dead. I'd be happy to help."

Her dagger scored a thin line across his cheek. "You wicked tease," Gray said, primly wiping away a line of blood. "You talk as if you could do me harm." He countered her next strike, his wound already healed.

"I'm a woman. I can do all sorts of things." She sprang into the air, skittered upside down on the ceiling like a spider, landed on her feet behind Gray, and plunged her long dagger into his back before he could spin to face her.

"Minx!" he gasped, twisting around to yank the knife from his back.

"Do you realize what you've done?" Mina snarled. "What you've let out in me?" She snatched the knife out of his hands so fast that she broke several of his finger bones.

"A woman's wrath?" Gray said mockingly. He straightened his fingers with a crackle and stood, letting the deep stab wound in his back heal. "Oh, I'm petrified."

Mina leaped at Gray again and slashed his exposed throat. Like a zipper closing, the wound healed.

Fiercely, Gray thrust with his sword, impaling the vampiress through the stomach. He shoved the blade all the way through and retreated. Mina staggered, but her wound healed as well.

"We'll be at this all day," Gray said with a sigh, then threw himself at her again.


	35. Of Imposters and Tau'ka

AN: Happy New Year, everybody! Continued thanks to the support of my readers. As usual, all I own are Daria, the Tau'ka, and the blender I used to come up with this insane plot. Here's the post:

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Chapter Thirty-Five: Of Imposters and Tau'ka

_Still in M's Fortress…_

Through a series of mazelike passages, Quatermain and Sawyer raced after Moriarty. The man moved like a ferret, streaking up stairs, turning corners, dashing down hallways, always just a few turns ahead of them. All the while, he never let go of his leather satchel that contained the items he needed to reproduce the exotic powers of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. At one point, the pursuers heard his voice float down the passageway.

"Koor!" Moriarty bellowed. "Take them!"

Another voice, dry, cool, and vaguely familiar, replied, "No, I don't think so, _Professor_." Quatermain recognized the voice as the one he'd heard in the cemetery back in Venice. "My brother informs me that you have broken your word to us. I'm afraid you will have to handle this situation yourself."

As they ran, Quatermain and Sawyer passed a dark-haired man who raised an eyebrow as they went by. "Moriarty went this way," he said calmly, indicating the passage in which he stood, which branched off from the main one. "I hope you catch him, humans." Koor stepped aside to let the hunters pass.

Quatermain saw no sign of M's passage further down the corridor they were following, so he decided to take the chance. He and Sawyer doubled back and sprinted past the Tau'ka, although his companion kept his weapon trained on Koor as they went by. No attack came.

The hint was a good one, and soon the pair spotted Moriarty further on down the corridor. Though he was older, Quatermain pulled ahead of his younger companion, concentrating only on catching the evil mastermind before he could find a way to escape. All thoughts of Koor's assistance went straight out of his head as he shouldered his guns. He chose to save his breath for running rather than shouting threats at the Fantom or worry about the motives of alien terrorists.

Sawyer lagged behind and held up his Winchester, hoping to fire it at M. The young American concentrated on his aim, still running headlong- and suddenly tripped on something unseen. His legs went right out from under him and he tumbled to the floor as his rifle clattered away. He heard a half-maniacal chuckle and saw the outline of an invisible man fall into a hanging tapestry on the wall.

"Skinner!" Sawyer cried in disgust. He was sprawled in the floor, out of the chase now.

As Moriarty ducked around a corner, Quatermain looked back to make sure his young friend was all right. He couldn't wait, or the villain would escape. Sawyer waved to urge him on, and the adventurer continued his pursuit.

Sawyer climbed to his feet and turned to the unseen thief. "What the heck are you doing here, Skinner?" he asked in disgust. He brushed himself off, squashing the urge to strangle his teammate. "Now look what you did."

The invisible man continued to chuckle, but the voice sounded very strange, causing the hairs on the back of Sawyer's neck to rise.

"What makes you think I'm Skinner?" the voice asked, lacking any trace of the thief's Cockney accent. The voice's owner untangled himself from the hanging fabric, and a floating knife came into view with him. "He's not here. My name is Sanderson Reed!"

The invisible man attacked with the very visible weapon.

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On the factory floor level of the fortress, two figures slowly circled one another on the massive platform that overlooked one of the industrial foundries and laboratories, eyes locked on one another. Neither dared to break eye contact and give the other an opening in which to strike.

"Really, Daria," the taller of the two figures said. "I'm rather disappointed in you. I would have thought that by now, you would have seen our way and rejoined the only remaining members of your family."

"I've seen your way," Daria said flatly. "Random murder of a race that has done nothing to us? Sorry, but I'll pass."

K'Wah sighed. "We can't take our place in the galaxy until the humans are wiped out."

"I think you're confusing the Tau'ri with the Goa'uld."

"At least I haven't turned my back on our people."

"No, you just started going around committing genocide."

Her brother snarled incoherently and slashed at her with his blade. Daria brought her own sword up just in time. The clash of metal upon metal rang throughout the foundry.

"Your style has changed, little sister. Whose influence?"

She parried another attack easily. "Captain Nemo showed me a few tricks," she replied, taking no little delight in the disgusted look on K'Wah's face. A Tau'ka had had the audacity to learn something from a mere human? Their blades clashed again and again.

"I am doing what I am doing for our people- _your_ people. You know we are a dying race- I am fighting for the chance that we may renew ourselves," he said earnestly.

Daria ducked as her brother's blade cleaved the air where her head had so recently been. "And _you_ know as well as I do that the only reason that the Tau'ka have lasted this long is because we can interbreed with humans. Are you saying that only the pure-bloods should live? That we should kill the hybrids too? There'll be none of us left if you try that stunt!" She rolled to the side, came to her feet, and kicked out at him. K'Wah dodged aside just in time and renewed his onslaught of powerful sweeping blows with his sword.

"We were made. We can change ourselves."

"Are you crazy!?" she demanded furiously, hardly believing what she was hearing. The thought of any Tau'ka trying to manipulate the genetic code of another was repulsive to her. K'Wah was proposing to endorse the existence of a sort of modern-day Hecate and went against every fiber of her being. She flung herself at her older brother, slashing and hacking with her weapon. He was hard-pressed to defend himself against the attack.

He scrambled backwards, away from her. "Daria, please, be reasonable. Come back to your family, before you exile yourself."

The fighting had taken them towards the edge of the observation platform. K'Wah pressed his attack again, forcing the younger Tau'ka closer to the edge. Daria jumped back to give herself some breathing space. She landed on one of the overhanging conveyors that supported enormous crucibles. The crucibles were empty now, although they would normally be used to transfer large amounts of molten iron that would be used to forge M's war machines. The conveyor that it hung on crossed the span of the room a good thirty meters above the floor.

"I think the Council has the final say on any exile. And I'm here on assignment." She blocked a heavy overhead swing and smiled fiercely. "To stop you."

K'Wah's sword snaked back in, and the two blades locked together in the position known to swordsmen as "body-to-body". The position turned the duel into a simple contest of strength that put Daria at a marked disadvantage, with K'Wah being a good bit taller and stronger than she was. He leaned into the lock, making her arms tremble with the effort of keeping him at bay

"I do so hate to speak in clichés," he said bluntly, ad strangely, in English. "But I'm afraid that if you aren't with us…"

He jerked back sharply, causing Daria to overbalance as the opposing force was removed. His sword snaked around hers and sent her weapon flying from her hand to fall towards the floor far below. Before she could recover, Daria found herself with the point of K'Wah's blade centimeters from her throat.

"Then you are against us."


	36. Not Good!

AN: My sincerest apologies for not posting on Tuesday! DRL got in the way. Here is this week's chapter, albeit a tad late. Sorry!

Chapter Thirty-Six: Not Good!

_Once again, STILL in M's Fortress._

In the high keep of the fortress, an iron-hard door flew open, and Moriarty dashed into a stone-walled prison chamber. Quatermain pelted after him.

This room had once been an impenetrable bastion of torture and horror, built by the Cossacks and their power-mad czar- but the place was now forgotten, cobwebbed and filled with opulent detritus. Snow blew through a narrow spy slits and drifted over sealed wooden crates of books, tarpaulin-covered old furniture, and faded tapestries.

Plenty of places to hide in here.

Moriarty dove into the shadows, sinking down spider-silent as Quatermain entered, panting hard. He instantly quieted himself, trying to control his heavy breathing and pounding heart.

Taking the time to study the room, letting his hunter instincts take over, he scanned for his dark-garbed enemy… and saw him crouched in the shadows. He raised the spare Winchester and drew a bead on his adversary. He couldn't possibly miss.

"End of the line, Moriarty," he said quietly, not daring to hesitate. M looked up, reacting with apparent surprise to see the big rifle pointed directly at him.

Quatermain pulled the trigger, and the Winchester let out a roar.

The evil genius… shattered. Long pieces of reflective glass tumbled all around as the bullet utterly demolished a mirror propped up in view of the door.

Quatermain spun, taken aback as the real Moriarty charged out of the shadows with a wild yell, swinging a Mongolian mace. The deadly spiked chain-ball whistled through the air an inch from Quatermain's face.

The old hunter instinctively blocked the second blow with the Winchester in his hands. The spiked ball smashed into the stock of the sturdy American rifle- demolishing both gun and mace handle.

Moriarty took a moment to recover, but he never fought with less than cold determination. He tossed the ruined mace aside and landed a heavy blow with his other hand, punching Quatermain square on the old shoulder wound, where the Fantom's stiletto had stabbed him in the Venetian cemetery.

Quatermain roared in pain and swung the Winchester's broken stock at Moriarty. The evil mastermind sidestepped gracefully and stuck out a long leg to trip the hunter. The old man fell, unable to get his elephant gun free in time. As Quatermain went down, Matilda's straps snapped. The big gun skittered into the cluttered shadows of the old torture chamber.

Moriarty stepped back and snatched up a wicked-looking bent rod of forged iron. It looked as if it had been heated to a red heat many times before being used to burn the flesh off of pitiful victims. Though cold now, the iron bar was still capable of being an effective bludgeon. "To the death," Moriarty growled, advancing once again on Quatermain.

The hunter prepared himself for the next round. "_Your_ death."

M gave a thin, cold smile. "You'll need Hyde here to make it _my_ death, Quatermain."

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Under fire in the mezzanine, the _Nautilus_ crewmen held their own, taking risky shots at M's henchmen whenever they could. But they could not last here forever. The tumult continued below them on the factory floor. Down there, workers shouted and ran as steam tanks exploded, sending shrapnel everywhere.

Nemo himself spotted a way down into the lower level, which was divided into two areas- a laboratory nearest their group, and a assembly area under Dante's side.

"Hold them here, Hyde," he said sharply. "I will take care of what we came for."

The brutish man grunted his assent, still holding the heavy metal door against the furious hail of bullets. He didn't seem at all flustered, in sharp contrast to the panicking Jekyll inside his head. "Go ahead."

Dante called curt orders to his men as Nemo ran. "This takes too much time. Summon the fighter, so that we may finish them off."

The shower of bullets ricocheting off the thick metal door in Hyde's grasp diminished to an occasional patter. Nemo's crewmen tensed, wondering what other bizarre secret weapons the evil mastermind might have in store for them. Hyde growled and let the immense iron sheet rest against the floor, waiting.

Then a clanking noise boomed out even louder than the continuing racket form the factory floor. Something huge and heavy was plodding its way up behind the massed ranks of enemy soldiers. Dante whistled, summoning the massive mechanical threat forward.

Hyde peered around his shelter, his eyes widening at the sight that greeted him.

_What IS that thing??_ Jekyll yelped inside his mind.

_It's bad is what it is._

Thudding forward was a colossal, twelve-foot tall ironclad 'tank man"- a human soldier in a huge, rivet-studded gladiator suit, powered by an electrical motor. Each footstep sounded like a falling boulder.

The tank man paused at the front of Dante's cadre, and the beleaguered henchmen backed away in awe. The Fantom's lieutenant grinned in anticipation at the fate of his cornered prey.

The ironclad tank man raised a titanic, steel-plated arm, showing a circular cluster of long tubes- heavy caliber gun barrels that rotated around a central axis. Captain Nemo would have recognized the design as an extension of the horrifically effective Gatling gun introduced over forty years before during the American Civil War. Edward Hyde only knew- and cared- that it was dangerous.

With a blast of steam and a crackle of power from thrumming electrical motors, the rotating Gatling launcher locked into position and explosive artillery shells _thunked _into their launching tubes.

Hyde had just enough time to raise the thick iron shield again before the tank man opened fire.

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Nemo fought his way to the guarded laboratory where captive scientists were being forced to develop ever-more sophisticated weapons for the world war that M and the Black Hawks were planning to wage against the entire world. Though he had reached his destination, the _Nautilus_ captain's struggle was just beginning.

The Fantom's guards shouted, and Nemo crouched, keeping his limbs loose in his blue-sleeved uniform, his hands extended as weapons. The scientists watched the strange turbaned man, not daring to hope. Outside of the laboratory prison, they could all here the clamor of continuing battles.

Nemo moved farther into the room. Seeing only one opponent, the guards drew their thick Mongolian swords and strode toward him. He gave them a welcoming smile.

Had the guards had any sense, they would have been petrified by that smile and run for the nearest exit.

In a flash, Nemo waded into the group of armed men, kicked a guard squarely in the chin with his left foot, and used his right fist to crush the larynx of a second. The bellowing guards swung their swords, but he moved too fast. Their curved blades swept like threatening whispers through empty air, a few striking sparks form the stone wall.

Surging into the laboratory, the captain grabbed up a stool vacated by a scrambling scientist and punched a charging guard in the stomach with the long hard legs, then swung the seat around in a smooth lightning strike to his head. The unfortunate guard crumpled to the floor, his skull split open.

Seven guards remained. Not that Nemo was counting. Or cared, for that matter.

To a certain extent, he let his body act and react at a subconscious level, flying in an ecstatic flurry of blows and moves. He had seen the wild gyrations of the true Sufi dervishes in back home in India, enlightened ascetics who threw themselves into a state of complete abandon. That style was more than just dancing, it was a possession, like the ancient Viking berserkers. Nemo had incorporated elements of this approach into his fighting.

But he also prized his sharp and insightful mind. Even as the captain flung himself into battle, he remained aware of both himself and his goal. All the Fantom's henchmen together could not possibly withstand the onslaught of this lone man. Trying to stand against him would be like standing against a hurricane. Actually, one would be more likely to succeed with the hurricane.

Nemo used tools and laboratory instruments to deadly effect, proving once and for all that a long metal T-square snatched up from a blueprint table could be as dangerous as a sword. He smashed beakers, threw boiling acid, struck with his fists, and even sent a blackboard full of equations smashing down on the shoulders of his foe.

Something shiny and falling caught his eye. Reflexively, he reached out and snatched it from the air. A leather-wrapped hilt thumped neatly into his hand, and Nemo realized with a small start that he was now holding a heavy broadsword. He glanced up at a large conveyor belt that, when activated, would carry enormous crucibles of molten metal to the nearby foundry. There were two shadowy figures up there, standing on the belt itself. He heard voices speaking, but couldn't make out the words.

Nemo shrugged. Daria seemed to have things in hand up there. He flung the broadsword at an approaching guard and launched himself at another.

Before long, he had taken out every guard. Catching both his balance and his breath, Nemo turned to the stunned scientists who had watched him in awe. All around him the laboratory lay in ruins: tables splintered, chalk-scrawled blackboards shattered, plans strewn on the floor, vials and beakers in shards. It looked more like the handiwork of the average tornado than that of a single man.

The captive scientists and engineers stared, as speechless with fear of this stranger as they were of the masked Fantom- that is, until he told them what they needed to hear.

"You are free."

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Hyde struggled to hold the thick iron door steady against the coming attack. With a whistling cry in flight, the first of the large-caliber shells from the tank man's Gatling gun slammed into the heavy shield. Hyde staggered backward. The sound of the impact was deafening.

"Get back!" he roared to the _Nautilus_ crewmen, who still held their weapons ready, still hoping to take shots at Dante's cadre, though the remaining henchmen had taken shelter to leave the battle to the armored colossus. "Go!"

Another artillery shell struck the iron shield like a meteor, making it shudder in Hyde's grasp. Two impact craters now bent the barrier inward, but the shield held. The projectile ricocheted off to one side, striking high on a wall and making a stone arch crumble.

He got the glimmer of an idea. It was enough.

The ironclad tank man took two heavy steps forward. The Gatling cylinder rotated, bringing the next shell into position. He fired a third heavy projectile, than two more.

The shells flew at Hyde in rapid procession, and each time he used the bent shield to deflect them. One shell struck the ceiling, bringing part of it down. He tilted the door in a crude attempt in aiming the ricocheting shells.

The second careened off toward Dante's huddle henchmen, detonated, and made a general mess. Hyde's third attempt, however, flew true, blasting the ironclad colossus in the armored torso and exploding with spectacular results.

Shrapnel showered everywhere. The remains of the ironclad tank man toppled backward like a fallen Goliath. Armor plates, weapons, and jointed metal lay collapsed in a pile of wreckage.

When the smoke and dust cleared sufficiently, Hyde surveyed the mess with pride and satisfaction.

The rest of Dante's followers turned and fled.


	37. Not the League's Day

AN: Well, a nice long chapter for you guys. Hope you enjoy it!

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Chapter Thirty-Seven: Not the League's Day

_Need I say again? Still in M's Fortress_

Sawyer scrambled backward as Sanderson Reed's dagger came down and slashed repeatedly on all sides. Reed's accompanying thin laughter sounded like breaking glass.

The young agent swayed, bent, and twisted like a willow tree on the banks of his own Mississippi, evading the deadly point. His Winchester lay across the hall, where it had fallen after the unseen killer sent him sprawling.

Seeing no other choice- and intent on avenging his murdered friend Huck, the American lunged forward and grabbed the sharp dancing blade itself - the only part of his assailant he could see. Although his hand stung and bled, Sawyer never wavered. It was just like teasing snapping turtles back home.

Sawyer struggled with the invisible bureaucrat in a savage pantomime. He kicked out at thin air and sent Reed stumbling backward into the wall, stunning him for long enough that he could scramble over to snatch up his rifle.

Holding the Winchester out in front of him, he backed away from the invisible Reed. He shot in the direction of the unseen killer, managing only to strike the wall and shoot a few tapestries. Reed's footsteps pattered down the hall toward a closed door. Sawyer ran after him, firing repeatedly. The murderous Reed already provided an uncertain target- judging by the sounds, he knew he had missed each time.

His rifle clicked empty.

The moment the agent stopped firing, he heard the sound of footsteps and saw the floating dagger streak back towards him. Sawyer swung his Winchester around to block the main force of the knife as it slashed him once, twice, leaving nasty cuts in his arm.

Hissing with pain, the young agent swung wildly with all his strength, as if the rifle were nothing more than a crude club. The Winchester's stock made a loud and very gratifying sound as it connected with the invisible attacker. Sawyer pressed his advantage and drove him backward.

Reed's invisible body crashed through the door into a chamber filled with documents, parchments, and ancient writing supplies. Still reeling, Reed staggered, senseless, into a low shelf full of ink powders.

Bottles and containers broke open and spilled around him, dumping their contents of lampblack and dried tints onto his transparent upper body and head. Groggy and injured, M's assistant struggled back to his feet. However, now that he was smeared and dusted back to partial visibility, his advantage was gone.

Sawyer stood at the parchment room door with a look of determination. No scrawny little bureaucrat was a match for him. Even without bullets for his Winchester, he could still take Sanderson Reed.

Without warning, a fireball erupted, splashing heat and flames like a wave of lava crashing against the wall next to the parchment room. With a yelp, Sawyer flung himself to the side, barely escaping getting crisped by another gush of flames, A few loosed documents in the room ignited, and Reed himself scuttled away like a half-dissolved shadow.

Sawyer glanced up, spluttering. "Now what?"

With heavy clanking footsteps, a second one of Moriarty's ironclad tank men advanced toward him down the corridor like an angry dragon. Instead of a Gatling launcher, though, this one had been rigged with a flamethrower.

Sawyer dove out of the way as another fiery river exploded toward him.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Circling and slashing, Dorian Gray and Mina Harker fought on wearily- rather like an old married couple- but with knives and swords. Each blow and slash may only have had a temporary effect, but they still kept at it.

Eyes flashing and fangs exposed, Mina managed to back Gray into the bedroom, much to his apparent delight. "The bedroom, Mina- does it give you memories?" He smiled as he swung his cane-sword again. "Or ideas?"

She seemed to consider that for a moment, then leaped at him, whirled, and pushed off the wall with spiderlike agility. In a flowing movement, she ducked Gray's slash with his rapier and plunged her knife directly into his groin. "Ideas."

Naturally, he screamed, face going white. "If that had been permanent," he gasped weakly, "I'd have been very upset."

A substantial explosion from the lower factory floors shook the whole room. The floor bucked and heaved, and dust showered from the ceiling. Shouts and screams reverberated through the fortress.

Mina's momentary distraction gave Gray the perfect opportunity to skewer her in the chest. His long cane-sword thrust through her bodice, straight into her vampire heart.

Mina gasped for air, her green eyes wide with shock and disbelief. She clutched ineffectively at the sword that had sprouted from her chest and out her back. Choking on words, she gave Gray one final glare of hatred and collapsed upon the bed.

Gray frowned down at her lying there. His expression was almost a pout. "I'd hoped I'd get to nail you again, dear Mina. Didn't think it'd be literally."

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Inside the cluttered high keep, Quatermain and Moriarty continued their battle to the death. M clumsily swung his makeshift sword, making up for any lack of finesse with sheer unbridled violence. He slashed and parried against the old hunter's Bowie knife.

Moriarty poked viciously at his opponent's gut, but Quatermain blocked and twisted the flat iron bar aside. His move, however, gave M the opening to kidney-punch him repeatedly. With his bony knuckles, Moriarty hammered his opponent in any vulnerable place.

Fortunately, Quatermain was tougher than that. Gritting his teeth together with a wordless roar, he backhanded the gaunt mastermind with his Bowie knife, slashing at M's face. "I'll give you a real scar or two," he growled. "Make you want to wear that mask again."

But Moriarty's crude metal bar blocked the knife with a resounding clang, and the impact sent both weapons clattering off into the darkness among the ancient torture paraphernalia.

M lunged after him like a madman, and Quatermain found himself on the defensive. Tripping through the clutter as he retreated, he used anything he could get his hands on, grabbing at books, lamps, iron tongs, anything. But Moriarty was unrelenting and drove him back.

Finally Quatermain saw an opening. He managed to grab Moriarty's wrist and wrapped his other arm around his throat. Pressing closer, he squeezed, trying to choke the life out of his enemy.

"I hope I have your fire when I'm your age," M wheezed through a constricted windpipe.

"You won't live beyond today. That's a promise." Quatermain pressed his angry face so close he could have bitten off M's ear.

Then from outside the chamber came a challenging roar- a voice that sounded like Hyde's. The impacts of a furious battle shook the whole room, along with a series of piercing shrieks, one set of which Quatermain recognized as Daria's battle-scream. He couldn't even hazard a guess as to what the other shrieks belonged to. The racket gave Moriarty the chance to twist free again and suck in a huge gulp of air. He head-butted Quatermain, who shook it off and returned the favor. Moriarty staggered briefly, stunned and reeling.

Then they were both at it again.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Dante and his group vanished into one of the many corridors. Hyde, turning away from the mess he'd cheerfully made of the ironclad, leaped over the pit that separated their side of the mezzanine from his and prepared to chase after them. A sharp voice, however, caught his attention, drifting from the stairway that Daria and K'Wah had disappeared into. The voice was male, and sounded all together too final for Hyde's or Jekyll's liking as it said in clear English, "Then you are against us."

_Daria,_ Jekyll said, sounding horrified. _Edward, quickly!_

Hyde charged up the stairs and burst into the room above, bellowing furiously. If that Tau'ka dared lay so much as one _finger_ on Daria, there would be Hell to pay, Jekyll informed him. Hyde fully agreed with that statement. There weren't many females who could handle him- he wasn't particularly interested in losing this one.

He skidded to a halt just inside the room to take stock of the situation. There were Daria and K'Wah, balancing precariously on the enormous conveyor. As if that wasn't bad enough, Daria was unarmed, with the tip of her brother's blade at her throat. Hyde froze, fearing to provoke the male Tau'ka.

K'Wah turned, his blade not wavering. His mouth curled in a cruel smile as he looked Hyde over. "Tell me, Daria," he said, his voice a cold purr. "Who is this? Your boyfriend?"

Daria blinked in surprise, looking from Hyde to K'Wah and back. She grinned slowly and sent a brief mental "_Thanks_" to her would-be "rescuers". "Yeah. Something like that."

The taken-aback expression on K'Wah's face indicated that those words were not ones he'd expected to hear. Before he could turn back to Daria, she'd taken advantage of the distraction by dropping into a crouch and kicking his legs out from under him. K'Wah tumbled off of the conveyor and into empty space. He grabbed for Daria's leg, knocking her into the air as well.

"Daria!" It might have been Hyde who yelled, it might have been Jekyll. Afterwards, neither really knew who had screamed her name. For all they knew, it may have been both.

There was a rushing sound, as if of enormous wings. A bronze gryphon swooped up and landed on the floor of the observation platform.

_Are you alright?_ Jekyll demanded as Hyde hurried forward.

Daria bobbed her head. "I'm fine," she said hurriedly. "You go help Nemo. Quickly."

Another large shape flew up to their level, this one a sullen red-and-black. The new gryphon was much larger than Daria, more cat-like, with a heavier, more powerful build reminiscent of an eagle rather than a falcon. He landed a few yards away from Daria and Hyde and roared. The sound was like that of an angry lion, raising echoes in the cavernous room.

Daria whirled, snarling at the other gryphon.

_Hyde, go!_ she snapped in thought-speak. _I can handle this._ _By our rules, I have an advantage- this is MY shape, and he can't shift out until _I_ do. K'Wah's mine now._

She lunged at K'wah, slamming into him with all claws extended. Hyde waited for a moment, but she seemed to have things well in hand. He turned to leave the snarling, shrieking pair of aliens.

_Wait, where are you going?_ Jekyll demanded in protest. _Edward!_

_She can take care of herself. We need to go help Nemo._ Hyde raced through the door and back down to the mezzanine.

K'Wah disentangled himself from his sister and took to the air. She followed, nearly close enough to pull feathers from his tail. Their battled continued, more furious now with claws and beaks then it had been with the blades. Daria shot up to near the roof and dove back down like a falcon stooping on prey. K'Wah dodged, more quickly than she'd expected. He wheeled and closed, lashing out with long talons, scoring a new set of lines on her flank. She shrieked in a combination of pain and fury.

It quickly became clear that her technique would be of limited use in the relatively cramped conditions of the factory. While it seemed large to a human -or a Tau'ka- it became much smaller when a pair of creatures the size of horses were flying through it. This called for either a change of strategy- or of location.

Daria twisted in mid-air and shot upward toward the large glass skylights with powerful wingbeats. There were two ways to use telekinesis. One way was to use it like a pair of invisible hands to manipulate small objects. The other way was cruder- imagine the result of swinging a cricket bat into a window. This was how she used her power now.

The skylights shattered very spectacularly, sending shards of glass showering down. She deflected them away from herself as best she could and let the rest fall down on her pursuer. K'Wah shrieked and stopped to hover for a moment, shaking splinters from his face and feathers.

Daria shot into open air and arrowed for the sky as swiftly as she could. A minute late, she was on-station three hundred feet above the fortress and circling, waiting. K'Wah obliged her by flying out of the hole in the skylight. He paused for a moment, trying to figure out where she had gone. She folded her wings and dove again, shrieking rage and defiance, wind whistling through her feathers.

K'Wah looked up just in time to see the bronze missile plummeting from the skies and scrambled out of the way. She missed him by less than a yard and snapped open her wings, pulling up sharply in a defiance of inertia. Speed was traded for height and she was soon nearly high enough for another stoop.

Her brother didn't appear to be interested in giving her another chance at it, however. He flew away from the fortress as fast as he could, each wingbeat propelling him further and further away.

She gave chase, angling her long wings to follow him southward. K'Wah twisted his head around to look up at her and snarled again. But it wasn't quite his usual snarl of anger- it actually didn't appear to be a true snarl at all.

It was a smirk.

Daria hovered, trying to figure out what he was up to.

A sound like thunder reached her ears, but unlike thunder, this noise didn't fade after a few seconds. It went on, and on... She knew that sound.

A small starship flew out from the thick clouds above, a golden, pyramid-shaped craft. It was the source of the ongoing thunder as it came to hover over where K'Wah was flying. Daria identified it as an el'kinshe- one of the small scout/transport ships commonly used by the Tau'ka. A beam of intensely brilliant white light shot down from the el'kinshe's underside. K'Wah was squarely caught in the center of the beam.

_So sorry to interrupt this little spat, dear sister,_ K'Wah told her. _But I'm afraid I have to leave. Koor and I have other matters to take care of, now that things here seem to have 'gone south' as they say here._

The beam of light vanished, and so did K'Wah. The el'kinshe flew upward and vanished to Daria's eyes and ears. It was gone, and with it, the two traitorous Tau'ka.

Daria screamed her fury as her prey escaped and reluctantly turned back towards the fortress.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Hyde returned to the mezzanine in time to meet Dante and his remaining henchmen. M's lieutenant saw the oncoming behemoth and whirled to face his men, ordering them to resume their attack. "Use your bare hands if you have to!" he shouted. "Would you rather face the Fantom?"

Many of the men clearly would, but they hesitated and came back. Then, gathering courage, they swept together, yelling as they charged forward in a concentrated charge against the brutish man.

Hyde eagerly picked up the discarded iron door and swung it like a ton-weight cricket bat. He swatted away the first wave of henchmen, sending them flying like rag dolls over the mezzanine ledge and into the ruined ledge area.

Nemo had gathered the terrified hostage scientists and pushed them out the barred laboratory door, where they were met by his surviving crewmen. Behind him, Hyde's latest victims crashed spectacularly into the shattered glassware, utterly destroying the few scientific implements that had survived Nemo's battle with the guards.

Hyde hurled the metal door in front of him, crushing two of M's henchmen, then stalked forward to the remaining few. His heavy feet trod on the iron plate, under which the trapped henchmen stopped squirming and started oozing. When he reached the last scrambling henchmen, his blows sent battered victims flying in every direction.

Finally he faced Dante, the last man standing.

Seeing his doom approach in the form of a scientist's unleashed evil, the Fantom's lieutenant scrambled backward, trying to find shelter as Hyde stormed in for a killing blow. Dante fumbled in his pockets, frantically searching... He found it: an unbroken vial of Jekyll's potion, which he had kept for himself from the leather satchel he'd delivered to M. It was a desperate ploy.

With Hyde looming over him, Dante pried off the stopper and gulped down all the liquid.

"God, no!" Hyde howled, realizing what the man had done. "Not the whole thing!" Not even Jekyll in his weakest moments had ever consumed so much of the elixir at once.

Too late. Dante glared hatefully at him and wiped the last drops from his lips. Suddenly he writhed and screamed as the transfigurative chemical took hold.


	38. Things Go All to Hell

AN: Well, just a few more chapters left for this installment! I want to thank all the wonderful nutcases who have stuck with me thus far- you are all wonderfully amazing people. After Eight-Card deck gets finished, I think I will be taking a short break to get caught up on things- like, say, homework. Fear not, my freaky darlings, it'll probably only be two weeks or so, and I'll leave you a nice trailer for Seven of Spades.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Things Go All To Hell

_I promise, we are almost done in M's Fortress…_

A jet of curling flame rolled down the hall toward him, and Tom Sawyer dove headlong into the parchment room to avoid it. He sprawled on the floor among rolled parchments and documents that Sanderson Reed had knocked form the shelves. But hundreds of ancient- and flammable- documents remained stored in the chamber.

The towering flamethrower man clanked to the doorway, raising a reinforced metal arm. With a whoosh, he unleashed another flood of fire, blasting the whole room while Sawyer scrambled for cover. A wall of parchments ignited instantly.

Like a cornered river rat, Sawyer cast around for an escape route, but flames cut him off in every direction. The ironclad colossus closed in on him, raising the flame-throwing arm again.

From inside the armored walker suit, the voice of the Fantom's man sounded oddly thin and small. "You left your luck on the doorstep, boy."

Sawyer found himself trapped in a corner with nowhere left to go. The flamethrower man loomed through the thick smoke and took aim with his jet arm. Just as he shot another burst of flames, something knocked the reinforced arm aside, causing the fiery blast to go wide.

The walking ironclad roared in confusion, and his fire jet petered out after incinerating a wall of empty shelves. Sawyer opened his eyes and saw the armored titan struggling with an invisible assailant. A long knife protruded from between two of the iron plates, shoved deep into the man's vulnerable body within. Rising smoke outlined the form of the intruder.

"Skinner!" Sawyer cried gleefully. "The real one this time, I hope."

"I thought you Yanks were supposed to be the cavalry," Skinner replied, a grin barely visible on his smoke-stained face.

The wounded flamethrower man spun around and knocked Skinner aside with an iron-clad arm. He turned the jet on in the direction of his unexpected opponent and blasted at the invisible man, who skittered away.

Skinner didn't move quickly enough, and the leading edge of the fire scorched him. Large areas of his transparent skin were now burned into visibility, mostly across his back. He yowled and cursed in a drawn-out, incomprehensible wail.

Sawyer acted without thinking. He grabbed a piece of shattered shelving and charged the flamethrower man from behind, rammed into him, and knocked him spinning, He whacked against the tank on the ironclad's back until he pierced the fuel reservoir. Sparks flying from the inferno in the room caught the flammable liquid, causing it to spew fire like a Catherine wheel.

Sawyer rushed to where Skinner lay on the floor, burned and suffering. "Are you hurt bad?"

"Oh, no, it's really quite pleasant," the invisible man said sarcastically. "Can't wait to do it again. God, that's the last time I play with matches…" His voice trailed off as he pointed weakly at something past Sawyer's shoulder.

Sawyer froze as another knife blade was suddenly pressed against his throat, drawing him up. He lifted his chin and gulped.

It was Reed, still semi-visible from the smeared ink powders. "You know what they say, Yank," he growled. "Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer."

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

While in his powerfully muscled, bestial form, Edward Hyde had never before felt intimidated. Now, however, he staggered back from the huge and monstrous _thing_ that Dante had become. The lieutenant's metamorphosis had left him in a horrific form that would have made even your average tyrannosaur tremble.

His face still rippling and writhing from the agonies of the change, the Dante-beast loomed up, and _up_- then he struck. The blow he landed knocked his opponent backward across the mezzanine. Hyde slammed into a wall, smashing whole stone blocks into gravel, and fell to the floor, stunned and dazed.

The Dante-beast lumbered forward to pummel him again.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

After Captain Nemo had sent the freed scientists fleeing with their hostage family members, he rushed back to the pillared mezzanine to help his fellow League member.

In his _Nautilus_, Nemo had seen awesome sights that few men alive had witnessed: sunken cities, undersea mountains and volcanoes, horrific giant squid. But when he saw what Dante had become, he stared in disbelief.

The Fantom's lieutenant was now more than twelve feet tall, tremendously deformed, engorged with muscle and sinew. His spine had twisted, as if unable to support so much power and fury. His face, no longer even remotely human, was swollen with popped blood vessels and spiny facial hair that grew like a forest of bristles.

Hyde struggled to his feet just in time to meet Dante's next charge. The larger beast-man stormed at him, and the force of his punch sent the League member careening into a support pillar. The stone column cracked, teetered, and collapsed, bringing down a precarious arch. Hyde fell amid a shower of stones and rubble that blocked the exit passage.

A thick arm knocked the heavy blocks away, and Hyde hauled himself out of the rock pile. The Dante-beast immediately waded toward him and began his merciless assault once again.

Though he was becoming immensely battered, Hyde broke the attack and swung a powerful uppercut. "Come on, then," he growled. "If you fancy a ruckus."

_Eep,_ Jekyll squeaked. There really was nothing else he could say.

Hyde, ignoring him, continued to advance and slammed the Dante-beast into a structural column, toppling it and collapsing another portion of the ceiling. Nemo joined him, a wicked scimitar held in his right hand, his left raised and ready to assist with the fight. Despite his martial arts training and the curved blade, the captain looked absurdly small in comparison with the two behemoths.

Hyde stopped him with a hand as large as Nemo's head. "No, no. Leave this to me." He cracked his knuckles. "This will be my pleasure."

Jekyll squeaked again.

Reeling to his feet, the Dante-beast charged at Hyde, who obligingly ran back at him. They looked like two rampaging rhinos.

On one voyage to Japan, Nemo had seen a match of enormously fat Sumo wrestlers. Although this struggle brought back the memory, that contest had been a mere child's game in comparison.

Hyde and Dante collided like a pair of locomotives, giving Nemo a ringside seat at their gargantuan battle.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Standing over his bed, Dorian Gray turned from Mina's body. She lay sprawled, impaled on the thin sword. Gray sighed wistfully. "You were so lovely."

"Why, thank you." Mina stood and pulled the sword from her chest.

Gray spun, gaping in disbelief.

"You stole my heart once a long time ago, Dorian. This time you missed."

She somersaulted from the bed and skewered Gray with his own rapier. The force of the impact drove him backward, and they hit the wall together. Mina added extra force, shoving the point of the sword into that wall with all of her vampiric strength.

Then she backed away and dusted her hands, as if trying to wipe away the contamination of his touch. Gray tried to move, squirming left and right, but found that he was firmly affixed to the wall, like a beetle on a card.

Mina ran to the other side of the room and snatched up his wrapped painting, which still leaned against the wall. She turned it toward him.

"Mina…" Gray said warily, then grew more frantic. He tugged at his cane-sword to free himself, but it was buried too deep in the wall behind him.

With razor-sharp nails, Mina tore at the burlap covering. "You spoke once of wanting to atone, Dorian. You wanted to face your demon."

Gray's panic grew with each shred of cloth that she peeled away from the painting.

"Well, here he is!" She had exposed the entire portrait of Dorian Gray.

In the painting, Gray's face,- barely recognizable as a corrupted version of his youthful, handsome features- was wizened with age, leprous, oozing, and rotted from the accumulation of decades of evil debauchery. It was a symphony of horrors wrapped in an approximation of human form, carrying the weight of far more age and poison and decrepitude than any one person could endure.

Gray was transfixed by the true appearance of his soul- the last thing he would see. As he hung pinned to the wall by his cane-sword, his perfect, youthful face began to crease and peel. He gasped, writhed, _screamed_ while his body aged and rotted, until he took on the precise appearance of the painting- its degeneration, the cracked and peeling texture.

Mina looked away, her face resolute, yet her eyes brimmed with regretful tears. Dorian Gray withered and shriveled and finally died as nothing more than a twisted mummy.

At the same time, the image on his portrait became younger, restored to the likeness that Mina remembered- and had loved.


	39. Yes Skinner, Kaboom

AN: A nice long chapter for you guys to tie up the battles. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Yes Skinner, Kaboom

_Hopefully, the last time we are in M's Fortress…_

Nemo threw himself into the titanic battle between Hyde and the Dante-beast, but the two mammoth combatants paid little attention to him. Dante knocked the captain aside with an offhanded smack, then began to pummel Hyde again. The two monsters had reduced the mezzanine to rubble. Rocks continued to fall from the now-unsupported ceiling.

Though battered and bloody, Nemo remained determined. He drew a deep breath, quelled the pain through direct mental effort, sprang to his feet, and dashed back into the fray. He had studied philosophy and mental discipline, as well as sophisticated fighting skills; he knew he was not as insignificant as the Dante-beast seemed to consider him.

With a mighty blow, the Fantom's lieutenant slammed Hyde through another stone pillar. Nemo attacked Dante from behind, his scimitar flashing. Each slash with the curved blade drew a thin line of blood- little more than a shaving nick- but Nemo struck again and again. He scored the Dante-beast's tough hide.

Although each individual stroke caused only the slightest of injuries and pain, the captain knew it to be a subtle technique, most often used for torture. The brutal ancient khans had called it the "death of a thousand cuts". Now it might be his only chance.

But before Nemo could wear down the enemy, Dante backhanded him again. Nemo sailed though the air like a leaf blown on a strong wind, his blue turban askew, the scimitar still clutched in his hand.

The wall was coming up very fast.

_That is going to hurt, _he thought.

There was a thumping noise, nothing like the crunch Nemo had imagined, and a sound very much like someone going "Oof!" as the air was knocked from their lungs. Scaly arms wrapped around his torso, and a set of powerful wings beat on either side of him.

A beaked head came into his field of view, upside-down., covered in bronze and black feathers.

"An excellent catch, Daria." Nemo gasped, slightly disoriented by his sudden rescue.

Her beak opened in a grin. "I like to think sso," she said. She landed, letting the battered captain go as she settled herself on the floor.

"I- look out!"

Human and Tau'ka flattened themselves to the floor as something came flying over their heads and struck the wall

Daria twisted her head around to look at the figure as it staggered back to its feet. "Edward?"

"Stay out of the way." he grunted, flinging a fallen stone block at the Dante-beast. The Tau'ka watched the stone's path through the air, and squawked at seeing the Fantom's transformed lieutenant.

"What iss that thing?" she yelped, every feather on end with surprise.

"That's me on a bad day," Hyde said by way of explanation.

"Oh," She cocked her head to one side. "You have good dayss?"

Nemo shook off the insistent aches of his previous flying lesson and made a rapid assessment of the situation. "We're trapped. He's too strong."

Dante continued to roar in his rampage. He was coming closer. The group scrambled down into an unused ash pit. Hyde shook blood and rock dust from his shaggy ginger hair. "Too much elixir," he said. "He'll soon change back."

"If we have that much time left." Nemo retorted.

Suddenly, the Dante-beast's huge claw burst through the debris and snatched Hyde's head, trying to crush his skull. Hyde roared and battered his opponent's arm.

Daria and Nemo were there in an instant, she with her talons, he with his scimitar.

"Don't. You. Touch. Him!" Daria snarled, punctuating each word with a slash of her claws as the captain thrust with the slim blade and stabbed Dante's hairy hand, plunging the point deep. The weapon snapped in half.

The beast's unexpected pain gave Hyde the opening he needed. As Dante reacted by hurling himself at his enemies, Hyde grabbed him. He gripped Dante's hand and used sheer strength to haul the whole beast over his head as Nemo and Daria scrambled out of the way. Dante snarled and thrashed, until Hyde body-slammed him into the far edge of the pit with a sound like a cargo wagon crashing.

Knowing they could not fight Dante much longer, Nemo stumbled toward a low opening at the far end of the ash pit. He peered upward and saw bright daylight far overhead, illuminating thick layers of ice, frost, and long stalactites of icicles encrusted on the walls of an old, empty chimney.

Their only way out.

"Hyde, Daria, come on!"

Hyde staggered- and Nemo realized that his brutish ally's reaction was caused by more than just battle injuries.

He winced, face rippling. "I'm done. I've burned through… the… formula…Damn!" He let out a yowl of disappointment and pain as he spasmed in the sudden throes of his own transformation.

Daria interposed herself between Dante and her teammates. "Nemo!" she shouted. "Get him out of here!" She reared onto her back legs, mimicking the heraldic 'rampant' position as she clawed the air and screamed a challenge at the Dante beast, who was struggling to get to his feet. "I'll hold him off asss long asss I can!"

Nemo ran back and grabbed Hyde by the shoulders, helping him to stumble to the chimney. "Come," he said urgently. "We can hide. Maybe escape." They staggered along, while Hyde seemed to shrink in on himself, his body mass diminishing with each step. "Hurry!"

All too soon, he had reverted entirely to the small, shaking form of Henry Jekyll.

The Dante-beast charged at them.

Daria screamed again and launched herself at the behemoth. She landed on his massive shoulders, digging her talons into his neck and back, ripping into the flesh. She had to delay the monster long enough for the others to get away, preferably without getting killed in the process. She hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Jekyll would be most displeased if she got herself killed.

A well-aimed swat to the flank knocked Daria loose, sending her flying uncontrolled through the air towards the chimney. With no room to spread her wings and guide her flight, she shifted to her own, much smaller shape and curled into ball. She hit the floor with a thud that slammed breath from her lungs. Something cracked from the region of her ribcage, but there was no time to deal with that now. Gasping with sudden pain and knowing that she had bought the time for a retreat, she struggled to her feet and hurried after the others.

Nemo pulled Jekyll with him through the fire hole into an ice-crusted chimney. Daria skidded in behind them just as Dante hurtled into the wall. The beast slammed into the small doorway like a rampaging elephant, but only his monstrous head and neck passed through. His enormous arms and shoulders could not fit, though the force of the impact shook the chimney.

High above, a long, thick spear of ice snapped loose and fell, gaining speed, glinting in the in the reflected light from the sky.

"Look out!" Jekyll cried in a thin squeak. He shoved Nemo and Daria aside just before the sword-like icicle spike splintered into chips on the chimney floor.

Nemo looked at the shattered remains of the icicle. "I thank you," he said. "I would have been killed."

Jekyll blinked, then smiled at the praise and the glowing look Daria gave him. "I'm glad that… _I_ can be useful, too."

But the Dante-beast had also seen the thick ice spears on the chimney. He ground his shoulders into the opening and thrust himself through, breaking part of the doorway free. Inside, he reached up with one powerful arm to grasp a gigantic ice spike from overhead and pull it down. The Fantom's lieutenant loomed, filling most of the tiny space, and shoved his long frozen lance forward, intending to impale all three trapped League members in the confines of the chimney.

Nemo, Jekyll, and Daria had nowhere to go.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Just then, on the factory level, the timers of all of Skinner's bombs finally reached zero.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Inside the high keep filled with crates and torture implements, Quatermain drove the mastermind back. Moriarty retreated, and the old adventurer snatched up the Mongolian mace and pressed his attack, swinging the spiked ball.

M scrambled backward, desperate but not yet defeated. "You think you can come in here and destroy it all?" He laughed. "I'll just start again, rebuild from scratch."

"Is that supposed to convince me?" Quatermain raised the mace to smash Moriarty. He had had enough talking.

"There'll be another like me, Quatermain! You can't kill the future!"

But Skinner's bombs could.

Thunderous detonations ripped through the factory, the dry dock, and the factory area. As floor upon floor shook and support walls collapsed, the whole high keep fractured. Crates and rusty equipment fell in jumbles.

Quatermain and Moriarty were both hurled to the floor even as it split wide open. The explosions continued

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

A wave of fire and debris consumed everything across the factory floor as M's black fortress exploded. Flames reached huge tanks of fuel, turning them into firebombs. Compressed steam tanks burst open. Stored weapons caught fire and erupted with whistling shock waves.

Unprotected, the Dante-beast turned just in time to be impaled by red-hot shrapnel. He slammed against the chimney and dropped the lethal ice spear, which shattered on the floor.

The impact of the detonation snapped a further brace of ice spikes from high above in the curving chimney. Stone blocks and heavy spears of ice cascaded from high above onto the screaming Dante-beast.

Jekyll dragged his companions to the center as deadly shards came crashing down along the walls. They listened to the sounds of falling rock, slicing flesh and muscle, and the brittle crack of shattering bones. When the ice shower stopped at last, the three huddled figures opened their eyes.

"I… I can't believe we're unhurt," Jekyll stammered, checking himself for hidden injuries.

"Speak for yourself," Daria retorted. She probed her injured side with a careful fingertip and winced as it brushed against a painful spot. _Yep, that is definitely a cracked rib._

Nemo gestured toward a part of the chimney wall that had crumbled behind them, exposing a small but convenient escape hole. "We are indeed very fortunate."

On the opposite wall, though, the less-fortunate Dante-beast lay trapped and mewling, impaled repeatedly by slowly melting ice lances and heavy shrapnel. The wall above the doorway had slumped down in a precarious collapse, dumping a hundred tons of stone onto the beast's back. The monster stared imploringly at them, its remaining eye desperate.

Just then, the formula finally wore off, and Dante reverted to his human form. The feral eye changed to the smaller, frightened eye of a dying man. His body shrank into itself, and the fallen blocks shifted again, crushing him entirely.

Nemo shoved Jekyll and Daria to safety through the escape hole as the collapse of the whole chimney generated a huge cloud of dust behind them.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

Continuing explosions literally shook apart the tower room. One half of the high keep broke away, then settled with a lurch several meters below the rest of the chamber. Daylight and sparkling snow streamed through great cracks in the stone walls.

Quatermain fell between a creaking torture rack and a set of long, sharp-tipped iron rods. Moriarty got to his feet first, saw his opponent's Bowie knife lying on the floor, and lunged for it. Knife in hand, he stumbled through dust and debris and snatched up his fallen silver mask and his leather satchel of the genetic and scientific information that had given the members of the League their special abilities.

Several thick wooden ceiling beams had already broken from the walls and fallen into the chamber. With scrambling, slipping footsteps, Moriarty started climbing to the high floor above, the top of the tower.

"Not so fast, M." Quatermain gripped a shaft of rusty pointed metal, which he aimed like a spear. "You've lost."

Moriarty turned to see the threat, Bowie knife at the ready, and smirked dismissively. "I've lost?" He jumped back down from the stairs. "Not yet. Not nearly."

"I have you." Quatermain stepped over a fallen beam, pushing his rusty spear closer to his nemesis.

M rolled his eyes. "Do you ever tire of being wrong, old man? The League. Me. Skinner. _Wrong_." He sighed. "And wrong about the young American, too."

"Sawyer?" A cold dread trickled like glacier water down his spine. "What about him?"

"He's a bumbling fool, just like his friend Huckleberry Finn. What a ridiculous name." Moriarty held up the retrieved Fantom mask where it gleamed in sunlight that filtered through a crack in the tower. "Do you think him ready and able? Ha! You didn't train him any better than you trained your son."

Quatermain saw Tom Sawyer reflected in the mask's mirrored finish- being held in the doorway with a knife at his throat by the powder-coated head and shoulders of Sanderson Reed. Sawyer struggled, but the knife pressed against his jugular.

Quatermain paused, knowing he had no choice but to surrender.

Moriarty laughed in his face. The old hunter locked eyes with his nemesis. M seemed utterly victorious, in spite of the explosions that wracked the remains of his crumbling fortress. Quatermain wanted to kill him right then.

Instead, he spun and hurled his makeshift spear dead into Reed's chest, missing Sawyer by a very comfortable inch. The invisible Reed writhed and wailed in pain, and his half-seen form slumped in death even before the spear stopped vibrating. The bureaucrat's knife fell to the floor, and Sawyer broke free, kicking his dying form for good measure.

But as Quatermain straightened, knowing he had made the right choice, Moriarty sprang at the old adventurer and plunged Quatermain's own Bowie knife into his back. He twisted the hilt, grinding the blade further into the hunter's lunge, seeking his heart.

With a disbelieving gasp, Quatermain dropped to his knees. Sawyer ran to him, distraught to see his mentor fall, torn between attacking the Fantom and staying with Quatermain.

"I thank you for the game." Wiping his bloodied hands on his trousers, Moriarty dashed over to where a wide crack in the tower offered escape. Carefree, he jumped out into open sky, soaring high above the ground.

With an angry shout, Sawyer rushed to the crack, seized the edge of the broken stone, and pushed his head out into open daylight. He expected to see the evil mastermind falling to his death at the base of the fortress.

Instead, Moriarty sailed gracefully toward a safe landing far below, his black cape extended into a wind-resistant barrier, billowing out like the skin of a flying squirrel.

"Not…over… yet…" gasped Quatermain.

Sawyer turned to see the deeply wounded hunter staggering toward him. The Bowie knife still protruded from the middle of his back, and his shirt was soaked in blood. But he'd had the strength of mind to retrieve his elephant gun. He cradled Matilda in his hands.

He lurched forward. Sawyer grasped his arm and steadied him. "We need to get you help. Got to find Mina or Dr. Jekyll."

Quatermain shrugged him off. "No. No time for that." He reached the gap in the tower and peered out through the crack, struggling to focus his eyes. He saw the black form of the Fantom sailing to the ground. "There he is."

Moriarty skidded to a landing and took off running across the snow-swept field toward the half-frozen Amur River, where the curve of the stolen nautiloid still poked up through the ice.

Quatermain held his rifle with trembling arms and tried to aim, but he couldn't see. Slumping, barely able to stay on his feet, he fumbled in his pocket with bloodstained fingers. When he drew out his spectacles, both lenses were broken, the frames twisted.

With a sigh, he pulled Sawyer close so they could stand together. "It's on you now, boy." He guided the young man to help him take aim. "Look there, find him. Show the bullet where to go."

Sawyer was uncertain, wracked with grief for his mortally wounded friend and mentor, but Quatermain clenched him tightly until he submitted to the hunter's intensity. The American agent leaned in and sighted down Matilda's long barrel.

"So, take your time. Last… chance."

Sawyer squinted, aimed, and adjusted the elephant gun. He concentrated, but finally hesitated, unsure. "It's too far."

"No, you're ready," Quatermain said, urging Sawyer to aim again. "Got to be ready."

Moriarty kept running, his black cape flapping like a bat's wings behind him. Every step carried him farther away, closer to the small submersible.

"Take. Your. Time." Quatermain squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the pain and the tide of weakness as his life continued to bleed away.

By now, Moriarty was so far away that he seemed barely a black dot. Exactly centered on the sight line, Sawyer accounted for breezes, the movement of the target- and took the shot.

With a loud crack the bullet whistled away from the rifle. An eternity passed.

Then, far off, Moriarty fell face-first into the snow at the river's ice-crusted edge. The leather satchel filled with vital, stolen secrets skittered along, teetered on the thinnest ice, then broke through and sank forever into the frigid water of the Amur.

The Fantom's mask spun away, coming to a rest with the empty eye-holes staring up at the clear sky.

Up in the tower, Quatermain smiled in satisfaction. Then he collapsed with a dying gasp. Sawyer knelt by his side. The young man's eyes filled with tears, but there was nothing he could say, no way to help.

Quatermain clutched the front of Sawyer's shirt. "May this new century be yours, son," he gasped. "As the old on was mine."

"Allan," Sawyer said pleadingly. "No, wait-"

And with that, Quatermain died.


	40. Bond, Halcon, and Kenya

AN: The final chapter of the second installment of "A New Hand for a New Century" is at hand. I want to thank all of my lovely readers who keep me writing. This is for you guys. hugs all

Chapter Forty: Bond, Halcon, and Kenya

_Mongolian Wastes, outside the remains of M's Fortress…_

In front of the smoking, crumbling fortress, a British soldier raised his head over the snowy slope. Beside him, another head appeared, peering at the destruction. Then another, and another.

Finally, two hundred soldiers in winter uniforms marched together through the snow: a combined British and American force that trudged across the wind-swept steppes.

Several heavy icebreaker ships were moored in the far distance at a wide point of the frozen Amur River. Slabs of ice had ground up their armored hulls as they had battered their way up the channel, until they encountered the _Nautilus_. Soldiers and officers continued to disembark, though all that remained were the mopping-up chores.

A few surviving henchmen and Mongolian guards fled into the distance across the empty hills, searching for peasant settlements to pillage or take refuge in. Black, greasy fumes curled into the sky from a collapsed chimney. With a low rumble, another minor explosion blew out a side wall.

On their way back to the submarine vessel, the _Nautilus's_ crew had corralled hundreds of Moriarty's escaping workers and guards; other crewmen now tended to the rescued scientists who were reunited with their hostage family members.

Bandaged and battered, the remaining members of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, no longer part of the military action, sat, wrapped in blankets, waiting for the officers to meet them. They eyed the arriving troops coldly.

Daria sat next to Jekyll, who had wrapped a protective arm around the Tau'ka, mindful of her injured ribs. She sighed unhappily and snuggled closer. "I can't believe it," she muttered. "After all of that, they _still_ got away."

"We all did our best," Jekyll said quietly. "And we came out alive- most of us, anyway." He looked over at the place where Quatermain's wrapped body lay, cold and still.

"The Hawks still got away." She sighed again. "I never thanked you for coming after me like you did."

Jekyll reddened slightly, embarrassed. "Well, it was mostly Edward- I mean, we…" Daria raised an eyebrow, and he managed a weak smile. "You're-"

He never managed to finish his sentence- Daria chose that minute to kiss him.

"Thanks to both of you, then," she said when she pulled away. "If you hadn't, I would have-"

"AGENT NOCLAF!"

Daria stiffened, squeezing her eyes shut in a grimace. Then she turned and stood at attention as three figures came striding up to them, ignoring the twinge from her injured ribs. The leader of the groups was a tall, powerfully built man with glittering citrine eyes. He was flanked on either side by an armed bodyguard, one male, one female, dressed in white winter gear.

"Commander Halcon," she said stiffly. "Special Agent Daria Noclaf reporting-"

The 'conversation' quickly shifted to a language the humans didn't speak. The leader of the newcomers, Halcon, went off on a rampage, giving Daria a fierce tongue-lashing. He looked plainly furious.

Daria held her tongue under the verbal onslaught that the commander of the Tau'ka military forces- one of her two direct superiors- was giving her. It was mostly along the lines of where had she been, why hadn't she made contact with anyone in over a month, who were those humans she was with, and, most importantly, _why_ had he seen the Black Hawks' ship flying away from Earth the moment his own craft entered the planetary system? The tirade went on in that vein for a while, liberally sprinkled with the colorful language that Commander Halcon was famous for. Not surprising, really- he had risen to his current exalted position through the ranks. If there was one thing that Daria had learned about soldiers, it was that they all- human, Tau'ka, or any other species- seemed to swear. A lot. Halcon didn't even give her a chance to explain- he simply ordered one of his guards to Fetch her gear from the _Nautilus_ and for Daria to come with him.

The guard Halcon had spoken to held out her hands and concentrated for a few moments. Daria's gear, neatly packed into a few carrying satchels, appeared either in the guard's hands or at her feet.

Daria went over to the remaining members of the League

"I have to go," she said hurriedly, switching back to English.

"Why?" Sawyer demanded, eyeing Halcon and his guards suspiciously. "Who are those people?"

"My commander," Daria replied. She hugged Mina and Sawyer, nodded to Nemo, and squeezed Skinner's hand, a sad smile on her face. "I'm sorry, everyone. It was an honor to fight with you all. I'll do my best to get back in time for the funeral."

"_Noclaf_..." Halcon said warningly.

Daria grimaced again. "Don't forget me," she said softly to Jekyll, kissing him again. "I'll be back, I promise." Then she walked over to where her commander and his guards stood and picked up her gear.

Jekyll watched, stunned by the sudden turn of events as the four left, striding away across the snow, feeling as if someone had hit him squarely in the stomach.

_Don't just stand there, lover-boy,_ Hyde growled impatiently. _Do_ something_ Or I will!_

Jekyll scrambled after them. "Daria! Wait!"

She paused at the top of a tall drift and looked back, waiting.

"I…" He swallowed hard, trying to get the words out, but they didn't want to come. The Tau'ka smiled, eyes full of emotion.

_I know, Henry.__ I love you too._

She followed the other three out of sight.

He trudged back to where the rest of the League were waiting, joining up with them at the same time an elegant, rather portly gentleman arrived.

"Coming to rescue us, are you?" Mina said dryly to the newcomer. "It's about time."

The elegant gentleman smiled a warm greeting at the disheveled vampiress. "Sorry. Took us longer to get here then we expected. Russia was none too keen on the sight of our gunboats." He extended a plump hand to Mina and introduced himself. "Bond. Campion Bond. British Secret Service."

"Dollar shy, day late, I'd say," Sawyer said, his voice drier than even Mina's had been.

"Ah, you must be the American," Bond said. "How… quaint. Though I must say, you've done quite a respectable job."

"Yeah. That's right." Sawyer was surprised that the man knew him. He imitated the other's introduction. "I'm Sawyer. Tom Sawyer."

Bond glanced at his pocket watch to make sure the whole mop-up operation continued on-schedule. "Yes, I know who you are." He looked around at the assembled members of the League. "Although, I must say, I had thought there were more of you."

"We had a traitor, and one of our members was killed in there," Mina said coldly. "The other-"

"Had to leave unexpectedly," Jekyll cut in.

"How did you know of us?" Nemo wanted to know.

Bond glanced at him in surprise, snapping the pocket watch shut. "We've had a spy among you the whole time."

The League members looked in unison at Skinner.

"Rodney Skinner. Of 'er Majesty's Secret Service." Skinner's proud smile was only visible because of the smears and grime that covered his transparent face.

"Now I don't know what to believe," Mina said.

"Or who to trust," Jekyll added, looking cold and miserable.

Uniformed scouts and army engineers scoured the remains of the fortress. Even though the battle was already over, they were needed for their muscle. Groups of men carted equipment, engines, and war machinery to the icebreakers. Campion Bond watched the work with glee, as if he could barely wait to inspect all the new toys in his possession.

Another contingent of soldiers took over tending to the former prisoners. Nemo nodded his permission to his crewmen, and the soldiers led the hapless scientists away, including Karl Draper, who flatly refused to be separated from his daughter Eva. They looked haggard, but comforted to know that their ordeal was over at last. They had all seen the Fantom's body lying motionless on the riverbank.

Sawyer watched the scientists go. "Taking them into care? They'll need hospitalization."

"Oh, they'll be taken care of, alright." Bond beamed. "Just so long as they keep up the good work- for us, of course."

Racing across the snow and panting white steam in the cold air, an aide ran up from the nearest icebreaker. He clutched a flapping telegram in his hand. "Mr. Bond, sir! We just received this in the radio room."

Bond scanned the message, his smile broadening. "Gentlemen, Mrs. Harker. The Queen herself would like to congratulate you for your extraordinary actions, and she proposes to induct you as a real league. What an honor!"

Sawyer wasn't entirely overwhelmed. He looked down at the wrapped shape of the old adventurer's cold body. "I'd like to suggest a greater honor. Allan Quatermain should be buried in Africa, next to his son." His voice was now hard and determined. "I aim to see that happen."

"And I would be honored to take you there," Nemo said. "My _Nautilus_ is at your disposal."

Sawyer felt a sense of relief, a small portion of the weight lifted from his shoulders. He turned to his fellow League members. "Who else is coming?"

Mina smiled at the young man. She took his hand as they moved toward the armored submarine vessel at the edge of the Amur. After hesitating for a brief second, Jekyll joined them.

Skinner stayed with Campion Bond, though. Sawyer looked back, frowning in disappointment. The other man shrugged his barely-visible shoulders. "I am nothing if not a servant of my Queen."

"Skinner," Sawyer said sternly.

The invisible man quickly changed his mind. "Coming!"

Bond's brow furrowed as he read the second half of the lengthy telegram form London. He gasped. "Wait! You all may be needed anew!" He raised the sheet of paper. "Scientists have discovered hot flares on Mars, green flashes as if from launched of massive cylinders. The astronomer Ogilvy has theorized it could be a sign of a Martian invasion!"

Jekyll's watery eyes widened, then he chuckled. "That's ridiculous," he said, remembering something Daria had told him about Mars's complete lack of higher life-forms.

Sawyer scoffed, also remembering that conversation. "Martian invasions, like world wars, are the stuff of fantasy." Together, he and Skinner respectfully lifted the shrouded body of Allan Quatermain and carried it toward Nemo's waiting vessel.

As the snow blew harder, the League turned their backs on Bond and began their trek back to the _Nautilus_.

OSCOSCOSCOSCOSCOSC

_Nairobi, Kenya_

In the grassy field along the outskirts of Nairobi, a dark-skinned shaman tended a small fire, chanting as he added herbs and powders to the dancing flames. The sun beat down mercilessly on the plain and town alike.

Closer to the cluster of buildings, five people were gathered around a newly dug grave, each mourning its occupant in their own way. One figure, dressed in a long trench coat despite the heat, looked up at the others.

"You remember 'e swore Africa wouldn't let 'im die?" he asked. "I wish the old boy 'ad been right."

A young man with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up and a long elephant gun slung over his shoulders, spoke. "What's next?" he asked.

The oldest-looking of his companions, dark-haired and bearded, wearing a blue-and-silver tunic and turban, thought for a moment. He looked at the other four, searching their faces. "I have long hidden away from the world," he rumbled, his deep voice grave. "Now I wish to see it anew as the century turns. You're all welcome to join me."

The sole woman among them considered this for a moment.. "We've all been hiding in one form or another," she said. The turbaned man nodded.

"The _Nautilus_ awaits," he told them. "So who is coming?" He turned to walk away from the newly dug grave after giving it a respectful bow. One by one, the others followed, saying goodbye in their own way as they passed the foot of the grave.

"So long, old chap," said the man in the trench coat.

A man dressed in the dark suit of an English doctor paused for a moment. "Goodbye, Allan,' he said quietly. The woman followed him.

"Goodbye," she said softly to the silent grave.

The young man lingered by the mound of dirt that now covered the remains of his friend and mentor. He removed the elephant gun from his shoulders and set it on the top of the mound reverently. "Thanks," he said simply, then hurried after his companions.

As they five trekked off through the sun-browned grass, the shaman approached the new grave. Chanting and shaking a sacred rattle, he picked up a handful of dirt and raised it to the sky above.

The flames of his fire shot up as thunder rolled across the Kenyan plains. Dark clouds appeared on the horizon, rolling closer more quickly than a natural storm had a right to. The shaman continued chanting, the words coming faster and faster from his lips. The chanting reached a crescendo as the storm came directly overhead.

Lightning struck the grave.

_The adventures of Daria Noclaf and the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen continue in 'A New Hand for a New Century: Seven of Spades', coming soon._

AN II: I will be taking a short break from posting after this to catch up things (like, say, homework…). Next Tuesday will be the trailer for Seven of Spades, and then the week after will not have a post. The following week will see the publishing of 'Seven of Spades' for your enjoyment.

Special thanks to **Skunk and Hedgehog, Miss Quatermain, Starry-Eyed Fool, Sylence, **and **Master of the Boot** for your special support.

6


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